


The Hogwarts History Club

by kildeer



Series: Scorpius Malfoy and the Breaking Statue [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, F/M, Family, Gen, Ghosts, Growing Up, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Houses, M/M, Original Character(s), Scorbus, Secrets, Sexism, Slytherin, Slytherin Albus Severus Potter, Slytherin Scorpius Malfoy, Teenagers, Wizarding History, Wizarding World
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-05-27 22:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15034997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kildeer/pseuds/kildeer
Summary: Albus, Candy and Scorpius arrive for their third year at Hogwarts to find that while some things have changed others, unfortunately, have not. Emotions are running high and divisions begin to appear in the most unexpected places. Incensed and inspired, Albus and Scorpius concoct a plan to bring accountability and justice to Hogwarts, but how far are they willing to go? And what price will they have to pay?





	1. Breakfast in Parting

The sun was just beginning to rise but the air in Middlesbrough was already sticky warm. Candy hadn’t been able to bear the idea of putting on her school robes for the journey to Leeds and shifted uncomfortably, pulling the fabric of her t-shirt away from her sweaty back for a brief moment of relief. The life of the new day was flickering and flowing steadily around her; bleary-eyed men and women heading off to work or dragging themselves home from night shifts. Several of them eyed her curiously where she stood on the sidewalk with her book bag over one shoulder, the large rolling suitcase at her side, and Candy folded her arms, trying to ignore them. This neighborhood was more industrial than Costa Street, the brick buildings occupied by dry cleaners, take-out restaurants, used appliance shops and liquor stores with people living in rented rooms wherever they could. The shelter where she and Eréndira were staying was an old municipal building that had been saved from demolition by a religious charity group.

Joe’s dirty orange pickup truck finally appeared at the end of the street, heralded by the soot-throated rumble of its engine. There was nowhere to park so he came to a stop in the road, letting the truck idle as he got out and came over to her, hoisting up the suitcase and flashing a winning smile.

“Ready to go?”

She nodded and followed him to the truck, climbing up into the passenger side while he put her suitcase in the bed. His work boots were crusted with muck as usual and he was wearing a white t-shirt under his coveralls, which were half unzipped with the sleeves tied around his waist. 

“Have you had breakfast?” Joe asked as he put the truck into gear.

“No,” Candy said.

“Dira didn’t make you anything before she left?”

Candy bit the inside of her bottom lip, taking a deep breath through her nose. _There was nothing to make._ The shelter had a kitchen of sorts but everyone kept their food in their own rooms, and what little was shared went fast.

“She asked but I wasn’t hungry that early, and I didn’t want to hold her up.” 

Joe nodded absentmindedly, his eyes on the road.

“I can swing through McDonalds. We got time, right?”

Candy glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

“Yah; it’s the six o’clock train.”

Her father ordered for both of them at the drive-thru without asking her what she wanted but Candy stayed quiet, hoping he couldn’t hear her stomach growling in anticipation. He placed the large paper bag between them on the seat with an orange juice for Candy and a coffee for himself. Candy tried not to eat too fast and made sure that she wasn’t taking more than her share. 

“Looking forward to going back to school?” 

“Yah.”

He took a sip of his coffee, clearly waiting for her to go on, and when she didn’t he arched an eyebrow, smiling at her.

“I suppose there’s a limit to how excited you can get over maths and homework; I know there was for me.”

Candy nodded, managing a smile in return. The air conditioning in the truck was starting to make her shiver and she pulled out her ponytail, finger-combing her long hair over her neck and collarbones. They had arrived at the train station and once he’d parked the truck Joe half-turned towards her with a shrewd look.

“You got everything you need? School supplies and all that?”

Candy hesitated, considering the question. She would get her school books at Hogwarts, purchasing discards from Madame Sylvestra for a Knut a piece and using a school owl to order anything else she needed from London. The scholarship money she received from Hogwarts usually covered the basics if she stretched it a bit. 

“I’m alright,” she said finally, “Besides, Mum could use the money more than me.”

There was a brief tense silence during which her father’s smile cooled, as Candy had known it would, his gaze sharp. She blinked back at him innocently. They both knew that Joe had stopped paying his half of their rent on purpose, even if Candy didn’t know why.

“Don’t worry about your mum,” Joe said, his easy manner returning, “She’ll be alright. I always take care of you two, don’t I?”

Candy nodded automatically and her smile felt as rigid as a doll’s. He walked her to the platform, handing off her suitcase to one of the baggage attendants, and for the first time he didn’t have to bend down in order to hug her goodbye.

“Do good on your studies now,” he said, “and try not to give the boys a hard time.”

Her father pressed a twenty-pound note into her hand with a smile and a wink, turning back towards the parking lot before Candy could reply.


	2. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus reflects on his first week back at Hogwarts, Hagrid unveils a new project, and a grim promise is kept.

If there was one thing Albus hated it was the feeling that he couldn’t fix a problem, and this frustration was never more maddening than when he couldn’t quite identify what the problem was. They were halfway through their first week of the new school year and something just felt _off_. They’d collected their guides for the Scholar’s Trials and gone over their new class schedules, Scorpius was planning to continue with the Falconry Club, and their professors were all present and accounted for. Overall, nothing at Hogwarts seemed to have changed which, unfortunately, included his and Scorpius’ social standing. 

Seemingly in defiance of the idea that there might be more newsworthy topics within the Wizarding world, _The Daily Prophet_ had continued to maintain a running commentary on the inherent threat of the Malfoy family all summer. On more than one occasion Albus’ parents had discussed cancelling their subscription, in agreement that the outlet was mongering hate as filler. However, this discussion always ended in consensus that it was more important to be aware of the larger social climate, and the _Prophet_ had no equal in terms of readership and resources.

When he learned that the Malfoys didn’t have a subscription Albus hadn’t been surprised, but he was shocked when Scorpius confessed that he and Draco still hadn’t spoken to each other about what had happened the previous school year. It was something Albus couldn’t quite wrap his mind around; how was it possible that any father and son wouldn’t make time in an entire summer to talk about something so profound and consequential? Scorpius had consistently found positive or interesting things to write about in his letters, but Albus was beginning to comprehend just how lonely the other boy’s summer must have been, especially without Astoria, of whom there had been no sign.

Albus felt as though he had spent his entire summer trying to will normalcy back into his relationship with his parents, which had largely consisted of reinforcing the fact that he was fine, _fine_ , perfectly fine, and that there was nothing untoward or sinister about his friendship with Scorpius. Ultimately the attitude among his family members towards the other boy seemed to be one of wary acceptance, and smiles had been extended to him at King’s Cross. Albus decided that this was better than nothing, even if none of his cousins or siblings had elected to sit with them on the train.

Almost from the moment they set foot in the castle Albus had felt the current of animosity and suspicion which he remembered from the year before like an unpleasant flavor constantly on his tongue. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it must be for Scorpius as a psychic. There had been a surprising number of vehement boos during the welcoming feast when McGonagall referenced Slytherin’s two consecutive House Cup wins, and the collective ill will of the student body towards his House was more pronounced than it had ever been. Confrontations and hallway scuffles were a daily occurence, and the glares he and Scorpius received told Albus where his housemates were laying the blame. As tense as the situation was, however, for the first time the attention directed towards them was in danger of being eclipsed in a thoroughly unexpected way.

Candy was...different. 

It wasn’t just that she was pretty, because she had always been pretty, and it wasn’t that she had grown taller (she and Albus were the same height now), she was more... _rounded_. For a split second after she’d first entered their train compartment Albus hadn’t recognized her, and the realization had been accompanied by an instant self-conscious discomfort which he found himself contending with every time they were together, and he hadn’t been the only one to notice the change. People openly stared at Candy now, boys in particular, but Albus had caught professors doing it as well. Whatever Cai Blevins had seen in her the previous year, it now felt as though the entire school had taken an alarming simultaneous leap onto the same page. The worst part was that Albus wasn’t entirely sure whether Candy was aware of what was going on. 

“Watch your step there Briar,” called Marcus, his tone at once jocular and mocking.

It was Thursday afternoon and they were walking to the stables for their first Care of Magical Creatures class. Candy faltered a little on the steep uneven hill, ignoring Marcus but accepting Albus’ arm for a moment while she found sure footing. Marcus and Bernard were loping along a few paces behind them and with a twinge of embarrassed guilt Albus wondered if they were doing this on purpose the better to watch Candy. It seemed that she hadn’t been able to update her wardrobe to accommodate the growth spurt; all of her clothes were shorter and tighter than they’d been the year before, and the charcoal pleated skirt she was currently wearing barely came to mid-thigh. Scorpius gave the two boys a withering look over his shoulder but said nothing. Over the summer he had mastered a haircutting spell and found a shorter style which reminded Albus of a rugby player. While it made him look a bit older and tougher, Albus secretly harbored a pang of nostalgia for the boyish fringe he’d had when they first met. Taking the opposite approach, Albus had decided that he would never have his own hair that short again, and it was once more a chaotic dark jungle on his head. 

The Hogwarts stables were two long wooden buildings set on stone foundations, located in the northwest corner of the school grounds on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. In the absence of horses they were most commonly used by Hagrid and Jonas as a kind of field hospital for sick or wounded animals. As the class approached, they noticed that several odd structures were being erected around the stables as well. Circular plots of land roughly ten feet in diameter had been cleared of grass and what looked like brown clay bricks were being stacked along their edges. Hagrid emerged from the nearest stable, beaming at them as he brushed hay off of his dirty work clothes, and as always Albus felt an immediate sense of reassurance and wellbeing at the sight of him. Nothing could be so wrong in the world as long as Hagrid was around.

“Afternoon, yeh lot,” he said as they gathered around him, “Welcome ter yer first Care o’ Magical Creatures class!”

The response of Albus’ classmates wasn’t particularly enthusiastic; it was a muggy overcast day and the smell of droppings and musty animal fur emanating from the stables was pungent. Undaunted, Hagrid clapped his hands together in delight as he looked around at them.

“I’ve got somat real special fer yeh this year, a once in a lifetime project,” he paused dramatically, his eyes dancing, “Giant Opal Nautili.”

There were several furrowed brows at this. Albus exchanged glances with Scorpius and Candy to confirm that they too had no idea what Hagrid was talking about. His godfather seemed to have expected this reaction and went on smoothly, his excitement undiminished.

“I wouldn’ have expected yeh to’ve heard o’ them; they’ve been almost completely wiped out, less than one hundred left in the UK, but we’ve been given special permission by the Nautili Conservation Board ter start a colony here at Hogwarts.”

He stood with his hands on his hips, radiating pride, and Albus was pleased to note that most of his classmates looked more interested now. Nerys raised her hand.

“Professor, what _are_ Giant Opal Nautili?” 

“That’s an excellent question,” his grin broadened, “would yeh like ter meet some?” 

Several people nodded eagerly and Hagrid led them around to the back of the first stable, where they found the only completed clay structure; a dome which stood impressively at half Hagrid’s height with a small wooden door. Hagrid rested one large calloused hand on top of the dome and held up a finger for emphasis, his expression serious.

“Now here’s what yeh need ter know. They’re very sensitive ter sunlight. Once yer inside yeh kin use yer wand light ter see ‘em but that’s all. These ones on’y arrived a week’er so ago so they’re still a little shy, and I’m gonna ask yeh not ter touch ‘em, alright?”

Once these instructions had been given they readied their wands and queued up in front of the door. It was completely dark inside the dome until the white lights of their wands sparked into being and there was a murmur of surprise as they saw four round swirling shells which looked as though they were made of gleaming opalescent glass. Each shell was about two feet high and as they watched the closest one began to move, the front of the shell slowly lifting off the clay floor as the head and body of a snail extended out, provoking gasps of wonder and delight. It reminded Albus of a colorless gummy bear, its thin antennae slowly angling in their direction. As though responding to some silent cue, the other nautili began to creep out of their shells as well, including the one affixed to the ceiling directly above them. 

“They’re beautiful,” Candy murmured, and Albus nodded in agreement, wonder-struck.

They were exquisite, as a matter of fact. As they peeked out he realized that he could actually see their wet spongy bodies moving within the shells, whose rainbow colors shifted and sparkled in the wand light like an aurora borealis. Streaks of what looked like clear mucus ran along the floor and walls, but it too reflected light in a number of colors. After a minute or so Hagrid, who was far too large to actually enter the dome, tapped on the door before slowly opening it, which caused all of the snails to withdraw back into their shells at what Albus suspected was their top speed. Hagrid was practically glowing as they exited into the now too bright daylight.

“Like I said, these’re the ones we have right now, bu’ as their huts get finished more’ll be brought in, an’ then we kin start workin’ out a breedin’ program.”

Albus wanted to laugh. If he was sure of anything, it was that Hagrid had drawn up his plan for an Opal Nautili breeding program ages ago. He spent the rest of the class explicating on the snails and how they were going to make the domes, which ended up being more complex than Albus ever would have expected.

“So are we going to be learning about snails this year or clay?” Candy asked later as they made their way back to the castle.

“Judging by this, I would say clay,” Scorpius chuckled, flipping through the Nautili Conservation Board’s _Colony Regulations_. Each of them had been given a copy of the one hundred-page guidebook as their only required reading for the class, and at least half of it seemed to be solely concerned with the clay used for the domes, going into staggering detail on how each individual mineral component would impact the nautili. 

“At least they seem safe,” Albus said, “You never hear about snails biting people’s hands off.”

“Don’t say that too loud; you might tempt fate.”

For the third time that week Nerys had caught up to them, joining the conversation with a breezy smile as she strode along at Scorpius’ elbow. Candy rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“If anything I’m more concerned about what’ll happen if their slime gets in my hair," she said.

“Ugh, me too,” Nerys said, briefly holding the length of her long black hair as though it were a rope before turning her attention to Scorpius.

“Speaking of hair, are you planning to keep yours short like that?”

Clearly unprepared for his inclusion in this exchange, Scorpius blinked at her in momentary confusion, his ears turning pink.

“I was, yah.”

Nerys beamed in approval, nudging his arm briefly with her elbow.

“Good, I like it.”

Scorpius smiled uncomfortably, eyes fixed on the ground as he walked.

“Thanks.”

“Hey,” Candy said, coming around to Nerys’ other side, “we have some time before next period; do you wanna check in with Devereaux about Tutoring Group?”

“Sure.”

They linked arms and went on ahead, with Nerys turning to smile at Albus and Scorpius once more over her shoulder, tossing her hair as she did so.

“Save us seats in Potions, okay?”

“Okay,” Albus said.

Her dark eyes lingered on Scorpius, who nodded awkwardly, and Candy gave them a somewhat apologetic smile as Nerys turned back to the castle.

“Looks like you have a fan,” Albus snickered once the girls were out of earshot.

“What?” Scorpius asked, frowning at him. Albus rolled his eyes, grinning.

“Never mind.”

 

After dinner Nerys and Candy went to the library to study with Claudette, while Albus decided to tag along with Scorpius as he took Albird out for a quick hunt. Even though they were forbidden to wander too far from the castle it was still lovely to be outside. The mugginess of the day had finally lifted as the sky cleared, and they walked through the grass in contented silence as the world began to turn rose gold. The routines of the training were becoming familiar to Albus but he was still fascinated by them. Scorpius had a particular way of standing when he commanded his hawk; there was an ease in how he carried himself and authority when he stretched out his gloved hand. It occurred to Albus that this was one of the only situations he could think of in which Scorpius didn’t act self-conscious in the slightest, and he grinned to see Albird respond to the other boy with such attentive devotion.

“He seems bigger than last year,” Albus said.

“You think so?” Scorpius asked, contemplating the hawk where it perched on his forearm, “I suppose I don’t notice when I see him every day, but it makes sense; he’s still growing.”

Albus went over to them and stretched out his hand, carefully stroking the hawk’s soft breast feathers, which was tolerated with a watchful amber eye.

“How big will he get, do you reckon?”

Scorpius smiled.

“Not as big as Brigid, I know that much.”

Albird turned its head to look at him and made a rather haughty _churtle_ sound. Scorpius raised an eyebrow.

“Well you won't.”

 

Once the sun had disappeared behind the western mountains they knew it was time to go back inside and Scorpius called Albird to his shoulder as they headed towards the owlery. Halfway there, however, Albus began to have the tickling feeling on the back of his neck that they were being watched. Just as he was about to ask Scorpius if he felt it too, a group of boys emerged from behind a ring of standing stones on the ridge just above them.

Albus and Scorpius came to a sudden halt, their wands in their hands almost instantly, but Albus’ heart was already pounding with dread. There were five of them, all upperclassmen, all Slytherins, their faces grim in the fading light. Albus recognized the tallest; Wendell, from their Quidditch team, with his Beater’s bat in one hand and his wand in the other. Scorpius stepped slightly in front of Albus, close enough that Albus could see him trembling, as Wendell looked down at them. 

“We told you not to come back, Deb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one dragged me kicking and screaming for awhile, and I'm still not completely satisfied with it, but my goal is to post a minimum of one chapter a month and I gotta keep that ball rolling. It also doesn't help that I've allowed myself to be infected by my very first Star Wars fic. I caved and wrote one scene, hoping that would get it out of my system, but now it's 22 pages and counting (because of _course_ it is). I have a feeling that at some point I'm gonna start posting it, cuz it's EPIC REYLO fluff trash and brings me much joy :) 
> 
> But I'm really excited for where this story is going - I'm particularly proud of the Giant Opal Nautili and kind of want one of my own <3


	3. Outnumbered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus and Scorpius find themselves in the Hospital Wing again.

The first thought to pop into Albus’ head had nothing to do with defensive strategy or spells.

_I’ve never been in a fight._

Not a real one anyway. There had been brief skirmishes with his brother and cousins, usually without magic in a grassy field by the Burrow after a disputed Quidditch game. None of them had ever had a fraction of the fear now cementing in the pit of his stomach. Before he could decide on a single spell, Scorpius’ arm shot out.

“ _Everte statum!_ ”

Wendell dodged the spell, the speed of his reaction taking Albus’ breath away, and lashed out with his wand.

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

Albus braced himself to be hit, watching for the red light in case he could dodge it, but Wendell wasn’t aiming for him or Scorpius. He was aiming for Albird. The hawk took flight from Scorpius’ shoulder with a screech, the spell just missing. Scorpius grabbed Albus’ hand, but before either of them could start running spells shot down at them. Albus felt his legs give way under a Jelly-Legs Jinx and collapsed onto the grass. Scorpius let go of him and turned to fire on their attackers, hitting a mean-eyed blond boy with a Vomiting curse before Wendell’s _Deprimo_ caught him square in the chest, sending him to the ground so hard that Albus felt the impact. The other boys were still trying to hit Albird, who had flown up over the ridge and was diving at them, screeching and flapping, his sharp claws and beak lashing out for vulnerable flesh as he dodged their spells.

“Albus, no!” Scorpius choked out to the hawk, clutching his chest where the spell had hit him, trying to get back to his feet. Albus’ legs still wouldn’t obey him and he tried to fire from the ground, aiming for Wendell, for _anyone_. Wendell pulled back the hand holding his Beater’s bat, his eyes on Albird.

“ _Protego!_ ” Albus shouted.

A glowing magical barrier sprang up between Wendell and Albird, stopping the bat’s vicious arc just before it connected.

“Albird, get out of here!” 

“Someone take out the damn hawk!”

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

A burst of red light hit Albird and he fell out of the air.

“No!” Scorpius cried, staggering to his feet, “ _Accio!_ ”

The limp bird changed course like a leaf caught in the wind and sailed towards Scorpius’ outstretched hands, but before he could catch it someone cried “ _Flipendo!_ ” and another burst of light hit Albird, hurtling him away from the fight. Albus couldn’t see where or if the hawk landed and aimed his wand at the nearest standing stone, his hand shaking in anger and fear. 

“ _Bombarda maxima!_ ”

The ancient menhir burst apart with a tremendous crack, raining chunks of rock down on the older boys who scrambled to get away, swearing as they tried to shield their heads and deflect the debris. They were moving to the other side of the circle and from his position beneath the ridge Albus could no longer get a clear shot at them. He fired at one of the other stones and heard renewed shouts and curses as it exploded, but the boys were coming down from the ridge. Scorpius performed _Finite Incantatem_ on Albus’ legs and pulled him to his feet, even though he was still out of breath and wincing in pain from the _Deprimo_ charm. It was almost dark now and before they could start running Albus heard angry voices and a rush of footfall as Wendell and the others came down the path towards them.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

Albus’ wand was pulled from his hand and shot through the air along with Scorpius’ as the older boys overtook them. Within seconds they were surrounded and Albus was startled by the speed and force with which a lanky red-haired boy locked a strong arm around his throat, forcing his head down. It occurred to him that he had been expecting a reprieve, a moment for threats and taunting before the next battle, but no one was stopping this. Scorpius fought back immediately, punching the first boy to approach him, who was twice his size, directly in the eye. When the other two boys took hold of his arms Scorpius began to kick, thrashing out with his legs and catching one of them in the face with a backwards head-butt. Wendell stepped forward and swung his bat into Scorpius’ stomach, finally bringing him to his knees. 

“Scorpius!” Albus gagged as the arm around his neck tightened.

Scorpius was retching into the dirt, and the boy he’d headbutted was swearing and clutching his nose with one hand as he held Scorpius down with the other, blood running over his chin. The boy he’d punched in the eye was still doubled over in pain, holding his stomach where Scorpius had kicked him. All five of them bore scratches and bites from Albird’s attack.

“You’re doing this to yourself,” Wendell said, “You were warned. No one wants you here.”

“Bugger off,” Scorpius managed, spitting bile in Wendell’s direction.

Without hesitation Wendell turned and brought the bat down on Albus’ side just above his hip, making him cry out in surprise and pain.

“Leave him alone!” Scorpius shouted, struggling to get up. In response Wendell hit Albus again in the same spot, making tears come to his eyes as he pulled futilely at the arm around his neck. With his eyes closed he could hear a renewed scuffle accompanied by a volley of the filthiest words he had ever heard Scorpius say before the crack of Wendell’s bat rang out again once, twice, and Albus opened his eyes in time to see the third swing hit Scorpius in the jaw as though his head was a Bludger. When the boys holding him finally let go Scorpius collapsed onto the ground, whimpering. Wendell’s voice was rough with exertion as he turned to the boy holding Albus.

“We’re done here.”

Albus gasped for air as his neck was finally released and he stood for a moment in numb terror as his Housemates walked away before going to Scorpius, his injured side protesting as he got to his knees.

“Scorpius?”

The other boy tried to push himself up from the ground and cried out, holding his right arm strangely as he supported himself with his left. Albus’ hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure of where or how to touch Scorpius without hurting him. 

“C-can you stand up?”

Scorpius made an unintelligible noise, drool and blood leaking from his mouth, and as he lifted his head Albus gasped before he could stop himself. The right side of Scorpius’ jaw was swelling out at an alarming angle and Albus spotted a tooth in the muddy grass.

“Oi!”

Albus started and looked up as their wands were tossed over the side of the ridge, landing lightly nearby. Albus collected them, his hands shaking, and couldn’t suppress the idea that they really were nothing more than sticks for all the good they had done. Scorpius had gotten himself into a sitting position and was reaching up to his face.

“Don’t touch it,” Albus said, catching his hand, and the somewhat surprised, distant expression on the other boy’s face made Albus’ heart skitter in panic. “Here,” he said, avoiding Scorpius’ right arm as he helped him to his feet, “I think you might’ve taken one too many to the head, mate.” 

It was dark enough that Albus had to light his wand, holding it out in front of them with one hand while he gripped Scorpius’ waist with the other. The other boy faltered as they began to walk, his expression becoming stony with pain.

“Are you going to be sick again?”

“Jus-kee’ going.”

His voice was wet with blood, his mouth not moving properly, but he managed to walk, and Albus cursed every godforsaken step between them and Hogwarts as they staggered forward. By the time they reached the castle Albus was feeling less shaky, even though it still hurt to breathe, but Scorpius swayed whenever Albus let go of him. The thought of all the stairs leading to the Hospital Wing filled him with despair; he was good at levitating things like books and fruit, but didn’t trust himself to float Scorpius given the state they were both in. He was also afraid that Wendell and the other boys were lying in wait somewhere to attack them again if he called out for help. 

“I kin stay...here,” Scorpius murmured, glancing hazily towards a nearby bench. Albus gritted his teeth.

“No, come on, we can do this.”

 

“Merlin’s Beard,” Madam Pomfrey breathed, putting down the linens she’d been carrying and rushing over to Albus and Scorpius as they maneuvered through the heavy wooden doors of the mercifully empty Hospital Wing. As soon as she eased Scorpius away from him Albus sank onto the nearest bed with a groan and watched as the elderly witch spent the next ten minutes trying to put his best friend back together.

Scorpius’ jaw was broken, his right shoulder dislocated, and Madam Pomfrey dealt with both as quickly as she could, lifting Scorpius’ head to help him drink a measure of potion first. She gave him a wad of gauze to hold in his mouth and pointed her wand. Scorpius’ jaw snapped back into place with a sound unlike anything Albus had ever heard, making the other boy squeal in pain like a kicked puppy, tears running down his face. 

“I’m sorry love,” Madam Pomfrey murmured a moment later, putting down her wand and placing her hands on Scorpius’ shoulder, “There’s no good spell for this.”

Scorpius was still crying but he nodded, the gauze in his mouth turning red. Unable to bear it any longer, Albus came over to sit next to him on the bed, taking Scorpius’ left hand in both of his own. Madam Pomfrey carefully massaged his arm and shoulder, then with one strong, deft movement pushed the joint back into place. Scorpius’ cry was barely muffled by the gauze as he gripped Albus’ hand.

Once Madam Pomfrey had completed her examinations, Albus was simultaneously relieved and ashamed to learn that he hadn’t sustained so much as a fractured rib. He drank the mild pain potion he’d been given as she returned her attention to Scorpius. 

“I can’t let you fall asleep tonight, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, pouring out a dose of Wideye, “You have a concussion. Do you understand?”

Scorpius didn’t meet her eyes but nodded, wincing a little as he obediently drank the potion. Madam Pomfrey watched him in silence for a moment, a deep sadness passing over her features before she cleared her throat, straightening the starched white cap on her head.

“I need to fetch the Headmistress. I’ll return shortly, alright?”

They both nodded, and once the door had closed behind her Albus got up and went to sit on the edge of Scorpius’ bed again. The other boy was cradling his right arm against his stomach, looking wrung out and desolate.

“Did you see what happened to Albird?” he asked, his voice still a little thick, as though the inside of his mouth was swollen. Albus shook his head and Scorpius fell silent again.

“What was Wendell talking about before? When he said you were warned?”

Scorpius sniffed.

“It was last year. He said I shouldn’t come back to Hogwarts,” he paused, “I should have listened.”

“Don’t say that.”

“What’s the point though, Albus? Of being hated and getting the shit kicked out of me over and over again?” Anger and hopelessness were chasing each other in his eyes, “Dad could get me a private tutor for less than what tuition is here. I should just hide away in the Manor library and be done with it.”

“I thought we decided we were going to fight though,” Albus said, trying to smile, “Remember?”

Scorpius’ expression softened a little.

“They’ve never come after you like that before. It’s not worth it if you’re going to be getting hurt too.”

Albus took his left hand again, not knowing what to say and feeling supremely useless. It seemed selfish to tell Scorpius how lonely he would be without him, especially after what the other boy had just gone through. Before either of them could go on the door to the wing opened and Madam Pomfrey returned with McGonagall, the Headmistress’ long dark skirt whispering against the stone floor. Both women’s expressions were grave as they came over to the bed and Albus thought he could detect something else; an undercurrent of tension in their silence and in the way they held themselves. 

“I’m sorry that we keep meeting under these circumstances,” McGonagall began, her voice at once clipped and weary, “I need the two of you to tell me what happened, including the names of the boys who attacked you if you know them.”

Albus took on the duty of relaying the details of the confrontation, with Scorpius identifying the boys and mentioning Wendell’s previous threat. McGonagall listened, her posture stiff as she gripped the polished silver head of her cane. Madam Pomfrey’s arms were folded across her chest, the corners of her mouth tight. Once Albus and Scorpius had finished talking the Headmistress cleared her throat. 

“You said that Mr. Malfoy’s hawk attacked these boys?” 

They both nodded and McGonagall half-turned to Madam Pomfrey.

“Once they’re brought in you’ll need to check their wounds for infection.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded, not looking at her, and McGonagall addressed Albus and Scorpius again.

“Do either of you know where the hawk is now?”

Albus felt Scorpius stiffen in fear next to him.

“No ma’am,” he said, “I don’t even know if he survived-”

“He was just trying to protect us,” Albus interjected, heat rising in his chest, “If they got hurt it's their own fault.”

The aged witch straightened her shoulders.

“All animal attacks on school grounds require that I inform the injured students’ families and the Board of Governors, Mr. Potter. You should know that I will also need to report your willful destruction of the two standing stones, which has permanently damaged one of the most well-preserved rings left in this part of the world.”

“With all due respect, Headmistress,” Madam Pomfrey said, her words coming out in a rush, “I don’t think that standing stones are strictly relevant to this conversation.”

“We can discuss that in my office, Madam Pomfrey,” McGongall replied, her tone quelling. Albus was startled by the spark of anger in Madam Pomfrey’s eyes as she relented, arms still folded.

“Yes, Headmistress,” she said. 

There was an awkward silence before McGonagall went on, her manner softening an infinitesimal amount as she spoke to Scorpius.

“Again, I am very sorry that this has happened Mr. Malfoy, but those responsible will be punished and I am sure you will make a full recovery soon. Now,” she tapped her cane once on the floor, looking around at them, “If you will excuse me, I need to follow up on all of this. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Headmistress,” they echoed. Once she had left the wing Madam Pomfrey seemed to collect herself, walking around the bed to fluff Scorpius’ pillow and gently check his healed jaw.

“As I said, you won’t be able to sleep tonight, but I have some books and a deck of cards on hand. I know it’s not much, but we’ll soldier through,” she gave him a stout little smile, “As for you, Mr. Potter, it’s almost past curfew so you best be heading back to your dormitory.”

Albus nodded, exchanging a glance with Scorpius, and Madam Pomfrey tactfully withdrew to her office. Wishing he didn’t have to leave, Albus carefully hugged Scorpius’ left side, drawing comfort from the other boy’s solidity and warmth. 

“I’ll be back to visit you before first period,” he said, “and I’ll ask Hagrid to be on the lookout for Albird, okay?”

“Okay,” Scorpius murmured, his arm tightening around Albus’ waist before they parted. Albus gave him his best reassuring smile, and managed to make it out of the Hospital Wing and down the first flight of stairs before he started blinking away tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm still working to find my sea legs with this story, but this chapter was definitely easier than the last so I'm grateful for that. I promise things won't be this bad for Scorpius all year! I'm also indebted to the Harry Potter Wiki for aiding my research on spells for the fight scene.


	4. A Half-Giant at Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Candy goes to visit Scorpius in the Hospital Wing and Albus has a talk with Hagrid.

Candy stood in front of one of the sinks in the lavatory, wondering how much earlier she might have to wake up to avoid other girls. She had just finished brushing her teeth and was combing her hair, none of which struck her as terribly newsworthy, but almost every other girl passing in and out of the busy chamber had cast a sideways glance at her. Most were appraising, others curious, but some were openly hostile and Candy took less care than usual braiding her hair, hurrying to finish. When she checked her appearance in the mirror one last time she paused, unsure of what she was looking for. Everything was as it had always been, she supposed; brown hair, hazel eyes, olive skin. As for the things that were different, she wasn’t displeased with them. _And it’s not like I’m the only one,_ she thought defensively. Each morning every sink was occupied by one or more girls styling their hair, applying various creams and makeup and perfume, openly admiring or deriding themselves. Grateful to be done, she went back to her dormitory to get her book bag and found Nerys zipping up a pair of expensive-looking black leather boots. 

“Ready to go?” the other girl asked with a smile, and Candy nodded, feeling that she should compliment her friend, who looked very nice, but unsure of what she should say or how it might be interpreted. _There’s nothing special about me. Look how pretty you are._

When they emerged into the common room Candy spotted a group of fifth and sixth-year boys who immediately stopped talking to glance over at her and Nerys with knowing smirks before continuing in whispers. Candy nodded to Max, who was hovering nearby. He came over, smiling shyly in greeting.

“What’s going on?” Candy asked under her breath, indicating the other boys. Max edged a little closer, looking nervous.

“Albus and Scorpius got thrashed by Wendell and his mates last night. Sounds like it was pretty bad.”

“Are they okay?” Candy asked, her stomach sinking.

“Albus is fine-”

“Scorpius?” Nerys asked, her eyes wide.

“Still in the Hospital Wing. Albus left to check on him about half an hour ago.”

“We need to go too then,” Nerys said fervently, turning to Candy.

“We will, we’ll go now. Do you want to come with?” Candy asked Max. He looked down at his shoes awkwardly.

“That’s kind of why I stayed behind actually; to make sure you knew what happened.”

The three of them made their way around the edge of the common room, attempting to be inconspicuous among the milling, sleepy-eyed students as they headed for the door.

“Oi! Deb Fan Club on the move; goin’ to the Hospital Wing?”

It was one of the smirking boys, a dark-haired sixth-year named Mitchell, his loud voice cutting across the common room chatter so that everyone paused, attent. 

“Sod off,” Candy snapped. The other boys sniggered and Mitchell grinned at her, raising his eyebrows.

“Only if you sod off with me, Briar.”

Candy clenched her fists, ready suddenly to fly at him, but Nerys was already steering her back towards the door, flipping Mitchell off over her shoulder as they left. News of Albus and Scorpius' fight didn’t seem to have traveled widely yet; everyone they passed appeared to be going about their business as usual, aside from those who watched Candy as though she were a living window display. Mitchell’s words slithered around in her head and she could still feel his gaze like a grimy film on her skin. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Nerys or Max.

It was a relief to make it to the Hospital Wing. Scorpius was the only patient, propped up in one of the beds with a breakfast tray on his lap. Albus was sitting on a chair at his side and looked up with a smile when Candy, Nerys, and Max came in. Almost before anyone could open their mouths to say ‘good morning’, Nerys had crossed the distance to Scorpius and taken his hand, her voice breathless.

“Scorpius, are you okay-?”

He jerked his hand away as though she’d burned him, knocking the tray so that his glass of pumpkin juice toppled over, his face contorted with anger.

“Merlin’s Beard Nerys, will you just _fuck off?_ ”

Nerys blanched as she drew back and Madame Pomfrey emerged from her office, frowning a little as she handed a rag to Albus and placed a gentle hand on Nerys’ back, guiding her away from the bed. Scorpius’ hands were clenched into fists at his sides as Albus hastily mopped up the spilled juice, and behind her Candy could hear Madame Pomfrey murmuring to Nerys.

“When someone has a concussion they don’t always act like themselves. I’m sure he didn’t mean it but it’s probably best to give him a little space right now-”

“I’m sorry,” Scorpius said, so quietly that only Candy, Max, and Albus heard it.

“It’s alright mate,” Albus said at once, “you’re still under the weather and you haven’t slept all night.”

It occurred to Candy that she was becoming used to seeing Scorpius in this state. His eyes were bloodshot and shadowed, a dark purple bruise covering the right side of his jaw, but she also sensed that the real damage was deeper than what showed on the surface. Feeling a rush of sadness and affection for him she carefully put an arm around his shoulders, leaning in to press her cheek against the back of his head before easing away again.

“I’m so sorry, Scorpius.”

He didn’t look at her, his head bent as though it was too heavy to lift.

“I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

Max shifted self-consciously at her side and Candy turned to follow his gaze. Nerys was still standing with Madame Pomfrey, her large dark eyes wet with tears and a stunned expression on her face, but she wasn’t looking at Scorpius. She was looking at Candy.

 

Madame Pomfrey had deemed it safe for Scorpius to sleep, so he would spend the rest of the day in the Hospital Wing doing just that. Albus’ morning classes barely made a ripple in his mind, and as he found himself sitting down at the Slytherin table for lunch it felt as though he’d just gotten out of bed. Candy was attempting to engage them in conversation about the Scholar’s Trials, going through all the guides they’d collected that week and highlighting the tasks she wanted to do, but Max was the only one paying attention. Nerys had been out of sorts ever since their trip to the Hospital Wing and pushed the food around on her plate disconsolately. When Claudette and Hugo came over from the Hufflepuff table, followed closely by Rose and Lily, Albus knew at a glance that they’d heard what had happened and braced himself.

“Are you alright?” Lily asked.

“What happened?” Rose asked.

“Did they really break Scorpius’ arm?” Hugo asked.

“I heard there were ten of them!” Claudette exclaimed.

Albus summarized the event with as much brevity as he could, and as he did he felt their concern ease. It was a relief to know that in this small way at least he could bring things under control. 

“It sounds like the two of you gave back as good as you got, at least,” Rose said, folding her arms, an uncharacteristic note of satisfaction in her tone.

Albus looked away uncomfortably. Scorpius had given it back. Even without his wand it had taken three grown boys to finally break him, but Albus had been immobilized by one arm across his neck. He hadn’t gone into detail about that when telling the story. Almost against his will he glanced across the room to the Gryffindor table. The somewhat exaggerated casualness with which James was sitting forward and listening to one of his friends told Albus that his brother had been looking at him a moment before. 

“It sounds like Scorpius’ hawk held his own too,” Max said, “I heard the wankers were covered in scratches and bites when they were finally brought to McGonagall.”

“That reminds me,” Albus said, pushing his plate away and checking his watch, “I need to go talk to Hagrid about Albird. I’ll see you later, okay?”

They nodded, clearly caught off-guard by his abrupt departure, but he didn’t wait and was grateful when none of them offered to come along. 

 

It was a clear, cool day and Albus tried to take comfort from it, feeling the pressures of Hogwarts lift just a little, like a malevolent moth from his shoulder as soon as he stepped out into the light. There was only half an hour left of lunch period but he didn’t particularly care if he was late for his next class. It was hard to focus on something so mundane when part of his brain was still anticipating another attack, prompting him to look over his shoulder every few steps, aware of every sound. 

He went to the stables first, mostly because they were in the opposite direction from the ridge and the standing stones. Down the center of the first stable a strange kind of scaffolding had been constructed like a long, three-tiered shelf, and Hagrid was stacking bricks on it, his clothes, hands and beard crusted with the thick pale clay. He looked up as Albus stepped onto the stone floor of the stable.

“Long time no see, Al.”

Though it was said with his customary warmth, Albus could tell at once that Hagrid had heard about the fight.

“Hey Hagrid.”

“Everythin’ alright?” Hagrid asked, taking another brick from the wheelbarrow at his side and stacking it carefully.

“It could be better,” Albus said, “Actually, I don’t know if you’ve heard; Scorpius’ hawk got Stupefied and thrown around a bit during the fight last night.”

Hagrid stopped what he was doing, his eyebrows coming together as his expression hardened.

“I hadn’ heard that.”

Albus nodded.

“Yah. Scorpius and I didn’t get a chance to find him after so we don’t know if he’s okay, but I just wanted to let you know in case you come across something.”

“I kin do that.”

The two of them were quiet for a moment, the mood unusually solemn.

“How’s Scorpius?”

“Better, kind of. Madame Pomfrey said he should be alright to leave the Hospital Wing later tonight.”

Hagrid shook his head, rubbing his hands together to rough some of the clay off.

“Yeh’d think there might at least be loyalty in yer own House,” he muttered, more to himself than to Albus, “Especially Slytherin.”

It wasn’t what he’d expected Hagrid to say and Albus blinked, confused. His first thought was to question why Hagrid would ever expect Slytherins to be loyal to each other, but wasn’t that why he’d chosen Slytherin in the first place? To prove that good things could be expected of them? Albus felt his heart sink in defeat, but something else was niggling at the corner of his mind. He looked up at his godfather.

“Hagrid, which House were you in?”

“Slytherin, o’ course.”

Albus pulled back his chin, incredulous. 

“You were?”

Hagrid nodded, turning back to his wheelbarrow.

“On’y lived in the dungeons my first year. When I came back fer second I was too big. They put me up in one o’ the bigger empty classrooms on the ground floor until Dumbledore arranged fer me ter live in the old groundskeeper’s cabin,” he smiled sadly to himself as he stacked the bricks, the heavy wet sound of them echoing in the empty stable. “Great man, Dumbledore.”

Albus was still staring at him in amazement, struggling to process the idea. Even though he’d known Hagrid his entire life, it occurred to him that he’d never once thought about the half-giant actually being a Hogwarts student.

“Did you have to have a special desk for your classes?”

“There was a special desk made fer each o’ my classrooms but some, like my Potions class, had ter be relocated ter bigger rooms. Fer Astronomy I ended up takin’ my practical exams out on one o’ the balconies lower down cuz I kin’ get up into that tower,” he paused, a shadow of weariness in his voice, “Seemed every year there was someone puttin’ up a stink about it. Parents, other kids, professors, all o’ them talkin’ ‘bout how much ‘accommodation’ I was gettin’ an’ how I never should’ve been allowed ter come ter Hogwarts in the first place. Bein’ a dangerous half-breed an’ all.”

“Getting Sorted into Slytherin probably didn’t help you with that,” Albus muttered. Hagrid’s bushy white and grey eyebrows came together a little and he didn’t respond right away, instead stacking the last of his bricks before turning to Albus with a deep sigh. 

“What most people don’ understand is that bein’ Slytherin’s got nothin’ ter do with bein’ evil ‘er twisted. Bein’ Slytherin jus’ means yer hungry fer somat an’ want ter prove yerself. But if that hunger turns in on itself, people end up doin’ anythin’ ter get what they want without carin’ about what it’ll cost.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way-”

“Exactly,” Hagrid said, his expression earnest, “Yeh jus’ have ter get people to use that hunger fer the right things.”

In spite of the resentment and sadness filling his chest, Albus couldn’t help but smile at this and Hagrid smiled back. For the first time Albus noted the slight hunch in Hagrid’s massive shoulders, the loosening skin around his knuckles and the deliberate care of his movements. _How long do half-giants live?_ Albus wondered, but instead another question occurred to him.

“Hagrid, what did you want to prove? When you were in school?”

Hagrid put his hands in the pockets of his filthy canvas overalls, looking oddly shy as he nudged a clod of hay and manure with the toe of his massive boot.

“I wanted people ter see me as a person.”

Albus didn’t know what to say to that, and before he could think of something one of the heavy bronze bells began to ring in the Hogwarts bell tower. Hagrid nodded towards the castle with a smile.

“Next period’ll be startin’ soon; I reckon yeh better head back. I’ll be sure ter keep an eye out fer that hawk.”

“Thank you, Hagrid,” Albus said, reluctantly hoisting his book bag higher on his shoulder. An impulse seized him and he darted forward, giving Hagrid a brief awkward hug before finally turning back towards Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story threads are starting to pull together over here and I'm SO RELIEVED. Also, writing Hagrid's dialect is not getting any easier and I have no idea if it's accurate :P


	5. Crime and Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Punishments are handed out in the wake of the attack, Candy and her friends reach a crossroads, and Albus and Scorpius gain an unexpected ally.

Scorpius ate dinner in the Hospital Wing Friday night. Madame Pomfrey made sure that his tray bore only soft foods; butternut squash soup, mashed potatoes with thick brown gravy, applesauce, and pudding. There was nothing she could do about the tooth he had lost and there was an occasional clicking sensation just under his right ear when he opened or closed his mouth. His shoulder was the worst of it though, burning sore with every movement. Madame Pomfrey gave him a bottle of potion for inflammation and pain with the instruction that he return to her if neither had abated by Monday.

Albus arrived just as Scorpius was finishing his pudding and the mere sight of him was enough to make Scorpius feel as though some measure of safety and equilibrium had been restored to the world. He did his best to respond to the other boy’s conversation even though he was barely listening, instead watching the reassuring smiles that flitted back and forth in Albus’ eyes like sunlight through leaves. Albus was sitting at his feet, bringing him up to speed on what he had missed in their classes that day, when Professor Devereaux came into the Hospital Wing and approached Scorpius’ bed, his hands resting casually in the pockets of his pressed khaki trousers.

“Good evening gentlemen,” he inclined his head towards Scorpius, “I heard you were being discharged tonight and wanted to have a word beforehand, with both of you.”

He paused to nod at Madame Pomfrey, who had looked up from where she was working at her desk in the windowed back office. 

“Of course, Professor,” Albus said, his posture straightening in a way that made Scorpius smile.

Devereaux pulled over a chair and sat down, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees.

“I just wanted to go over everything that’s happened since the incident last night and answer any questions the two of you might have,” he paused, and Scorpius could feel his usual amiability faltering, a slight heaviness settling in his clear brown eyes, “Wendell has been removed from the Slytherin Quidditch team. He, Geoffrey, Conor, Karl, and Dyfan will each serve a month’s detention. Given that Wendell and Karl are both seventeen, the attack has also been added to their official Ministry records.”

There was a beat of silence after Devereaux stopped speaking in which Albus blinked, looking between him and Scorpius.

“Wait, is that it?”

Devereaux cleared his throat and looked down at the floor, his eyebrows lifting.

“You and Scorpius have also been given a month’s detention, starting October first.”

Albus’ mouth dropped open and for a moment he seemed to be genuinely speechless.

“Wendell broke Scorpius’ jaw with a bat,” he stuttered, “How is he not being _expelled?_ ”

“Albus-” Scorpius began.

“And why are we getting punished at all?” Albus went on, anger sparking in his eyes, “They attacked us five on two; were we not supposed to defend ourselves?”

Devereaux was still looking at his shoes, calmly absorbing Albus’ anger.

“I understand your frustration, Albus, believe me, I-” he seemed to stop himself and shook his head, “There were several factors that needed to be taken into consideration to arrive at something that satisfied all parties involved.”

“Like what?” Albus demanded, thoroughly unappeased. 

Their professor sighed, chewing on his words.

“It’s Wendell, Karl, and Dyfan’s last year at Hogwarts and aside from this incident they’re set to graduate with honors. Scorpius broke Karl’s nose, and Geoffrey got a concussion from the debris when you blew up the first standing stone. The Board of Governors initially demanded that your parents be fined for property destruction and that Scorpius’ hawk be euthanized-”

Scorpius felt his heart drop into his stomach and Devereaux held up a hand to forego their exclamations.

“But this was the compromise that the Headmistress managed to negotiate. It would serve you well to be grateful,” he was quiet for a moment, clearly bracing himself for further indignation, which Albus seemed more than eager to deliver, but Scorpius nudged him with his foot and the other boy crossed his arms, his expression thunderstorm dark.

“Obviously,” Devereaux went on, “there will be some tense moments with the other boys, given that you won’t be able to avoid each other completely, but the Headmistress has made it abundantly clear that further aggression from either side will not be met with such restraint,” he looked between them, “Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” they said in unison.

“Do either of you have any questions for me?”

“No sir,” Scorpius said.

Albus opened his mouth, closed it, then muttered, “No sir.”

 

It was raining when they left the Hospital Wing, water lashing against the leaded windows as they made their way through the silent stone halls. Albus hadn’t spoken for almost five full minutes when he suddenly came to a halt next to a suit of medieval armor, hands on his hips as he turned to face Scorpius.

“What pisses me off the most,” he began, as though they were already mid-conversation, “is that everyone’s gonna think they can get away with having a go at us, or anyone, if all they’re going to get is bloody detention.” 

His fervency was palpable, and Scorpius inexplicably found himself remembering the moment just before Albus had leaned in to kiss him the previous June on the Hogwarts Express. Belatedly he realized that the other boy was waiting for him to respond.

“I’m actually surprised that they got as much as they did.”

“What?”

Scorpius shrugged.

“All the other people who’ve beaten me up only got one or two weeks’ detention.”

“So is this what it takes to get them to up the penalties? Broken bones?”

Scorpius frowned.

“Or a Potter getting hurt.”

Albus stared at him, his face falling, and Scorpius realized that this thought had never crossed his friend’s mind. Albus shook his head.

“That’s not-”

“I’m not saying it definitely was,” Scorpius said, more gently, “but the Board of Governors has to answer to the Ministry and everyone’s parents. I don’t think very many people are putting up a stink over me getting hurt at this point, but no one wants to think about something like that happening to Harry Potter’s kid.”

Albus said nothing; in spite of his obvious horror at the idea, he couldn’t seem to find an argument against Scorpius’ theory. Regretting that he had said anything, Scorpius stepped closer and put a hand on Albus’ shoulder, giving him a tentative pat. 

“Like I said, I might be completely wrong about that, and either way it’s okay because I’m fine. You saw how fast Madame Pomfrey got me sorted.”

Albus sniffed, all the righteous indignation and bravado gone from his posture, and his voice sounded a little thicker than before.

“Your shoulder’s still hurting.”

Scorpius opened his mouth then closed it again, unable to refute this, and instead contemplated giving Albus a hug. Something fluttered in his diaphragm at the thought, but instead he smiled reassuringly and gave Albus’ shoulder two more pats before taking his hand away.

“It’s going to get better though, probably in no time at all.”

Albus nodded, but he didn’t look reassured. As they continued walking Scorpius had the impression that the other boy had retreated to a deep cave within himself where weighty issues were stewed upon. If Scorpius knew anything about Albus, it was that he would not come back from these contemplations empty-handed.

 

Things were almost unbearably tense in Slytherin that weekend, an oppressive pall that carried over into the following week. Everyone knew what had happened to Albus and Scorpius, and with all of the anti-Slytherin sentiment running through the school very few of their Housemates were sympathetic to them. The older Slytherins tended to side with Wendell and the other attackers, if not openly then certainly in private. On more than one occasion Candy had overheard bitter whispered conversations about how much easier it would be for the House if Scorpius had never been sorted into it at all. Even Henry, who had always been on the side of peace and cooperation generally, looked put out by the unexpected loss of his Beater and the task of replacing him. 

This inter-House division could be seen most clearly in the Great Hall at meal times. Wendell and the other attackers would sit at one end of the table, and it was common knowledge that anyone who also sat on that end of the table supported them, so Albus and Scorpius would sit as far down the table from this group as possible. All of the students who then sat near Albus and Scorpius (usually just Candy, Nerys, and Max) were similarly understood to be on Albus and Scorpius’ side, leaving a demilitarized zone in the middle for covert sympathizers and true neutrals. 

Along with this animosity towards Albus and Scorpius, Candy sensed the uncomfortable gulf between herself and other girls deepening. More and more it felt as though she was trying to navigate a river on foot, caught off-guard by changes in current and the topography of the riverbed, steady and clear under her feet one minute, then dark and uncertain the next. This was most noticeable with Nerys. Things would be going normally between them one minute, talking and smiling easily, and then Nerys would fall silent, her expression gradually becoming blank, her responses a beat too late, as though she was only half paying attention to what was going on around her. When she did respond it was sometimes tinged with impatience, even annoyance.

“Bugger,” Candy muttered under her breath as ink bled out of the quill tip onto her parchment. “Do you have a spare blotter?” she whispered to Nerys, “Mine’s all used up.”

“Sure,” Nerys replied, turning away from her Pensieve to search through her book bag. It was Wednesday morning and they were in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Since the war Hogwarts had assembled a large collection of smaller-scale Pensieves, and their main focus of study that term was learning how to use the shallow disk-like bowls. They weren't yet at the stage of the project where they would be entering memories within the Pensieves, and Candy was profoundly grateful for this. Even though the process had been thoroughly explained and she had read the technical description in her textbook, the idea still felt terrifying and impossible. She could not fully disabuse herself of the idea that it would hurt somehow, or that once she plunged into her own memory within the Pensieve she would not be able to get back out again. For now, they were supposed to practice getting a memory into their Pensieves and then getting it back out again; into their own heads, into bottles or charmed objects, and from a bottle or object back into the Pensieve, all while keeping the memory sharp and intact.

“Here,” Nerys said, holding out a pristine white blotter. Candy thanked her and was relieved to note that things seemed to be friendly between them. They even exchanged a quick smile before Candy turned back to the notes she had been taking and carefully blotted away the small puddle of ink, which was now a satisfied stain in the middle of what had otherwise been a decent paragraph. Having done this she picked up her wand again and turned back to the Pensieve where it stood on its little wooden stand. Transferring a memory into the odd silvery water was much more difficult than Candy had expected. If the memory wasn’t clear enough in your head, it wouldn’t manifest at all, and if it did there was a good chance it would dissolve into the air before you could get it into the Pensieve. Candy had only managed it once so far. 

“Remember,” Dalca said as she walked up and down the row between the tables, “you need to start with something simple. Memories with strong emotion are more difficult to focus on. Often they lead to bigger memories which bleed together, making it impossible to safely enter them in the Pensieve.”

Candy placed the tip of her wand against her temple and closed her eyes, trying to focus. She finally settled on a memory of making dinner with her mother in their last flat, the one with the pink stoop on Costa Street. The smell of cooking meat and spices came back to her, along with the reassuring slice of her knife through a tomato, the crisp wet crunch of the red onion, her mother singing to herself as she cooked. There was a sensation of warmth in her temple, and she imagined the memory crowding in around the tip of her wand like commuters queuing for the tube. Candy opened her eyes and carefully pulled her wand away from her head, peeking out the corner of her eye and grinning as she saw the memory, like a bright white spider web, clinging fast to the tip of her wand. Afraid to breathe, Candy moved her wand towards the shimmering dark water within the Pensieve. When she tapped her wand with her pointer finger the memory broke free and drifted down onto the surface of the water, where it dissolved into ripples of colored light. She could see the image begin to form, like trying to find a station signal on a glitchy television. 

There was the plain, vacant-looking kitchen; the rickety table at which she sat chopping vegetables, her mother standing at the stove with one hand on her hip while the other maneuvered a long-handled wooden spoon through the contents of a large cast iron frying pan. It was surreal to see herself from a distance like this, as though she was watching a movie of her own life. Seeing her mother tugged painfully at Candy’s heart. She thought of Eréndira returning from a long overnight shift at the hospital to the shelter, to a room and a bed that weren’t hers, alone with her thoughts. The zipper on her winter coat had broken the previous year; was she going to be able to keep warm? What would she do if she got sick? 

Hesitantly, again afraid to breathe, Candy touched the tip of her wand to the surface of the water and murmured “ _Teneo_ ”, holding her breath as she pulled the wand up again. Instead of clinging to her wand tip, however, the memory began to break apart in shreds of watery technicolor which turned grey as they sank to the bottom of the bowl and dissolved completely. There was a soft staccato exhalation of breath next to her and Candy glanced over in time to see Nerys turn back to her own Pensieve, a small satisfied smirk in the corner of her mouth. Candy swallowed, clenching her fist in her lap, before putting down her wand and pulling her parchment back towards her, picking up her quill and taking notes on what had just happened to her memory, trying to ignore Nerys.

It wasn’t easy. The pointed silence continued between them through the rest of the class, accompanied by a series of subtle gestures from Nerys; a delicately lifted eyebrow, an adjustment of posture, a knowing glance. It made Candy itch as she felt anger building inside of her. Not for the first time she cursed the fact that they weren’t allowed to sit more than three at a table, otherwise she would have sat with Albus, Scorpius, and Max, who seemed to be getting on swimmingly across the aisle and a few tables down from her. By the time she and Nerys had returned the Pensieves to their storage cabinet at the end of class and were packing up to leave, Candy was gritting her teeth against the rising tide of impatience and resentment within her.

She nodded briefly to the boys as she followed Nerys out of the classroom, a small voice in the back of her mind asking why she was going after the other girl at all, as Nerys hadn’t acknowledged her presence and didn’t seem to care one way or another. _Do I want her approval? Do I just want her to acknowledge me?_ Candy had no idea. Another class down the hall let out and Claudette emerged with the other Hufflepuff first-years, spotting Candy and Nerys and smiling as she came over to them. 

“Hiya,” she said brightly, her golden curls bouncing. Even though no one had mentioned it, it was impossible to miss the fact that Claudette had gained weight over the summer; her face and body looked swollen, as though she were having a mild allergic reaction.

“Hi,” Nerys and Candy said together, and Nerys’ warm smile to Claudette made Candy’s greeting sour in her throat.

“We were just heading to the loo,” Nerys said breezily, and the three of them proceeded as though nothing were amiss, even though Nerys still hadn’t so much as glanced in Candy’s direction. 

Once they were in the girls’ lavatory, Nerys went straight to one of the sinks, propping her bag on the edge of the basin and unzipping it while Candy and Claudette found stalls. When Candy came out Nerys was still standing at the sink with her head tilted up into the light coming through the tall mullioned windows, brushing mascara onto her eyelashes with an almost meditative concentration. Candy went to a sink facing away from her, watching the other girl’s reflection in her own mirror. By the time Claudette joined them at the sinks they were the only ones in the chamber. 

Nerys was still touching up her face and Candy decided that she wasn’t going to be the first to turn away from her sink; she was going to pretend to groom herself until Nerys finally finished. Candy didn’t stop to ask herself why she was doing this, but if she had, _spite_ might have been the clearest reason she could find.

Claudette took the sink next to Candy’s, washing her hands while Candy robotically brushed her hair. The other girl smiled at Candy’s reflection, her dimples deep as puncture marks in her rosy swollen face.

“Your hair is always so pretty,” she said.

Candy was opening her mouth to say “Thank you” when a cool, languid voice came from behind them.

“She knows.”

Finally breaking, Candy put her hairbrush down on the white porcelain sink and turned around, her heart pounding.

“If you have something to say to me, bloody well say it,” she snapped.

Nerys didn’t so much as flinch, her freshly kohl-lined eyes watching Candy in the mirror. With a maddening air of indifference, Nerys pursed her darkened lips one last time in the mirror, retracted the lipstick back into its silver tube, replaced the cap, and put the lipstick back in her bag before finally turning away from the mirror to face Candy, leaning slightly against the sink and gracefully crossing one ankle over the other.

“Why would I have something to say to you?”

Claudette was looking between them nervously, clearly at a loss as to what was going on. Candy clenched her fists, wishing with all her heart that she could be as calm and cold as her opponent, as though nothing they might say to each other actually mattered.

“I don’t know, Nerys,” she managed, still seething, “why would you?”

A small twitch in the corner of Nerys’ mouth told Candy how weak her comeback had been, and the other girl continued smoothly.

“You do a pretty good job of playing innocent, otherwise I might have noticed it earlier.”

“ _God,_ Nerys, noticed what? What are you talking about?”

The smug satisfaction faded from Nerys’ expression, leaving behind bitterness and disdain.

“That you know exactly what you’re doing with your pretty hair and short little skirts.”

Candy blinked, surprised in spite of the voice in her head which muttered _of course…_

“I’m not-,” she began, faltering stupidly, and Nerys rolled her eyes.

“Oh what _ever_ ,” she said, finally losing her composure, “you’re so fucking transparent-”

“Nerys-,” Claudette began.

“Always changing the subject when I talk about him,” Nerys went on, ignoring Claudette, her voice rising, “taking my bloody arm and leading me away like I’m some embarrassing slag-”

“Nerys-” Candy protested.

“And of course he didn’t take _your_ head off in the Hospital Wing; not his precious Candy, draping yourself all over him just to rub it in my face!”

There were tears in her eyes, her face contorted with anger, and she was no longer leaning nonchalantly against the sink. She had stepped up to the edge of Candy’s personal space, her feet planted and her arms held rigidly at her sides. 

“Nerys, listen to me,” Candy said, as emphatically as she could, “I don’t fancy Scorpius and he doesn’t fancy me.”

Nerys suddenly laughed in her face, an almost giddy, despairing laugh as her carefully reapplied makeup started to smear, her eyelashes leaving delicate black impressions of themselves on the soft white skin beneath her eyes. Claudette hovered between them, looking close to tears herself.

“I don’t!” Candy insisted, her desire to reason with the other girl foundering beneath her anger, “But since you brought it up, it _is_ embarrassing when you start blathering on about him, so yah, I change the subject! And he probably took your head off that day ‘cuz he had a concussion and you practically flew at him like a bloody vulture!”

“Who the hell do you even think you are?!” Nerys shot back, both of them almost shouting now, “You’re just some jumped-up chav who barely knows which end of your wand to hold-”

“Stop!” Claudette pleaded, physically stepping between them and putting a hand on each of their shoulders, “Please just stop for a second!”

Nerys and Candy fumed silently for a moment longer before each of them took a step back, their expressions full of mutual wrath. Claudette nodded bracingly, her hands held up in a parody of surrender.

“Let’s just stop and breathe, okay? I know you’re upset with each other but we’re all friends, aren’t we? Let’s try to talk about this like friends.”

Candy’s stomach growled. The fight was cutting into their lunch hour, but walking away from it would be an admission of defeat, and it felt good to blame Nerys for her thwarted hunger along with everything else. The other girl had folded her arms across her chest and was not looking at Claudette or Candy; she seemed to be trying to pull herself back together.

“Nerys,” Claudette began, easily assuming the role of peacemaker, “I’m sure Candy didn’t mean to hurt your feelings and that she’s sorry she did.”

Nerys rolled her eyes but otherwise remained expressionless. Claudette turned to Candy.

“Candy, I agree that Nerys could have explained how she felt in a different, less aggressive way,” out of the corner of her eye Candy could see Nerys’ jaw clench, “and I want you to know that I believe you; if you say there’s nothing going on with you and Scorpius, then there’s nothing going on.”

“There isn’t,” Candy muttered, feeling hollowed out and wretched. Claudette smiled kindly at both of them.

“Do the two of you think you can patch this up and maybe try to talk about it again later once you’ve had some time to cool off?”

Candy’s gut reaction was to tell both of them to sod off, but she nodded at Claudette. Nerys sniffed and looked up at Candy, her gaze sharp and unwavering.

“I don’t know,” she said calmly, “Have you set up that study session with Cai Blevins yet?”

There was a beat of confused silence between the three of them.

“What?” Claudette said, as though she hadn’t heard Nerys properly. Candy felt her stomach stiffen and grow cold like a dying thing as she stared at Nerys. _You bitch,_ she thought. Nerys raised an eyebrow as she addressed Claudette.

“Last year on the train coming back from the Christmas hols, Cai Blevins offered to _tutor_ Candy in Etymology,” her eyes widened in mock surprise as she looked between them, “did she not tell you that?”

Candy clenched her fists, knowing that the battle had been lost. She had told Nerys about Cai’s offer in confidence the previous year, both of them agreeing that if Claudette ever found out her face would crumple in dismay and betrayal exactly as it was doing now. Claudette turned to Candy.

“He did?”

“It was nothing,” Candy began, “I tripped and my flashcards went everywhere. He was helping me pick them up and just started talking,” she glared at Nerys, “I never asked him for help or accepted his offer.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” 

Candy hesitated. It didn’t seem possible that there was a way to tell the truth that wouldn’t make everything worse.

“I know how you feel about him,” she said quietly, “and I didn’t want to make you upset, or make you think that I was interested in him, because I’m not.”

Claudette had folded her arms across her chest and was looking down at her shoes. Through her golden curls Candy could see a tear fall from the curve of her cheek as she sniffed.

“But he likes you.”

Nerys was watching Candy, her expression accusing, as though Candy had just spat in Claudette’s face. It was so unfair, and Candy had no idea how to get herself out of it, how to convince them that they were being stupid, that it didn’t matter what boys thought or didn’t think, that the world wasn’t going to end if they didn’t get the particular prizes they had their hearts set on. 

“Claudette-” she began.

Claudette shook her head and put her hands over her face, wiping away her tears.

“Of course he likes you more than me,” she laughed bitterly to herself, “anyone would.”

“That’s not-”

“I just wish you had told me,” she went on, looking wounded, “I think I’ve been a good enough friend that you could at least do that. Do you have any idea how many times people in my own House have asked me why I bother trying to be friends with you with all the bollocks people are saying about Scorpius and Albus going to the Dark side? Not to mention all the times my parents have driven you from York to Leeds and back, and bought you lunch and given you money for your trains.”

A deeper, more hotly burning anger began to rise in Candy’s throat at that and she swallowed.

“I’ve never asked them for any of that.”

Nerys lifted her chin, her eyes narrowed.

“But you’ve never said no, have you? Claudette’s told me all about it.”

Candy was finding it more difficult to breathe and she could feel her magic starting to crackle down her arms and into her hands, her fingers itching for her wand.

“You know what, Nerys? I can see through you too. I know why you really want to turn Claudette against me.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because when it’s just the two of you, _you’ll_ be the hot one.”

The self-satisfied smirk vanished from Nerys’ face, her already large eyes widening comically in shock. Claudette’s mouth fell open as she took a step back, more tears running down her cheeks.

“Are we done?” Candy said, her voice calm and cold. Without waiting for a response she grabbed her bag and pushed between them, muttering “Finally” as she left the lavatory.

 

After dinner that day Scorpius went out to walk his usual route around the castle, looking for Albird. It was a clear day, chilly and bright and lovely. Members of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team were making their way down to the pitch with their brooms for practice, along with assorted friends and hangers-on who were going to watch from the stands. Scorpius intentionally headed in the opposite direction, looking out over the lake, his gaze travelling to the eastern foothills and the strip of forest skirting them. He had been told that new and enhanced protection spells had been cast to keep out animal messengers like the ones his mother had sent to him the year before. However, there was no spell to keep him from entering the woods. The Headmistress had said that she was trusting him to abide by the new boundaries which she had laid out. Scorpius didn’t know what the honor of a Malfoy was worth, if it was worth anything, but he knew that he had a small, sturdy amount of honor, and that meant something to him. Even if Astoria was still able to send messengers to him, he didn’t think that he would be inclined to go looking for them.

Following the ancient stone walls of the castle, Scorpius made his way around to the northern side of the grounds, occasionally whistling for Albird and pausing to listen for the sound of wings or a responding cry. He didn’t think the bond between them was so strong that he would feel it somehow if the bird had died. Empath or not, Scorpius imagined that that sort of connection could only truly exist between people. If something were to happen to either of his parents or to Albus, he suspected that he would feel it, no matter how long Astoria stayed away or how many unspoken words continued to fill the chasm between himself and his father. 

He knew that Albus had been mildly horrified to learn that he and Draco hadn’t talked about Astoria over the summer. Scorpius thought that this disbelief would fade substantially if Albus ever actually visited the Manor; he still didn’t comprehend the size of the house, how easy it was to go days or even weeks without crossing paths when there were only three people living there. The only time they took meals together was when they had company, and they had not had company since before Astoria left. Draco kept to his rooms on the second floor and Scorpius to his on the third. It was as simple as that.

The northern side of the Hogwarts grounds ended in a cliff overlooking a beautiful river valley between the mountains. For obvious reasons there were hard barrier spells here, which kept him a good twenty feet from the cliff’s edge. Heading west around the castle Scorpius approached the school cemetery, which was shadowed by weeping willows, tall black poplars, and yew trees. Devereaux had told them that the cemetery had never been enclosed by a fence or wall because the founders had decided that it should always have room to expand, an idea which had turned out to be chillingly prescient. Right now the only thing marking the first graves was a massive ancient willow, and the tombstones seemed to grow younger, losing their cracks and lichen, regaining their polish as they radiated out from this terminus a quo. Scorpius stood looking at them for a moment, the wind at his back stronger now as it came rushing through the valley. Everything was becoming golden in the light of the setting sun, and he lifted his head to call for Albird again, watching and listening with no real hope. 

Suddenly, he heard the subtle yet unmistakable sound of wings beating against air and he turned towards it, grinning in amazement as a slim dark hawk came soaring low beneath the branches of the trees, directly to him. Scorpius quickly whistled again, indicating a tombstone for the hawk to land on, and it did so obediently, making Scorpius laugh with disbelief and joy.

“It’s really you,” he said, stepping up and tentatively stroking the bird’s head. Albird leaned into his touch at once, almost like a cat, bobbing and shifting his weight from one claw to the other excitedly, as though impatient to take his place on Scorpius’ arm or shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Scorpius said, sniffing, “I didn’t bring any of my guards and I don’t want you to claw me up.”

Unable to stop smiling and blinking back tears, Scorpius carefully handled the hawk’s wings and tail feathers, inspected his legs, claws and belly, feeling and watching for signs of injury and finding none. Albird simply chittered and squirmed happily, even allowing Scorpius to plant a spontaneous kiss on the top of his head, something Scorpius had never dared to do before. 

“I can’t believe you’re okay,” Scorpius said, stroking the hawk’s sides with both hands as though still confirming that he was real, “I’m so sorry for what happened; that you got caught in the middle of that. Thank you for trying to protect us.” 

The hawk blinked its amber eyes at him in companionable, if expectant, silence. 

“I didn’t even bring any treats,” Scorpius admitted guiltily, “I’m sorry. Are you hungry?”

The hawk turned its head to the side, a movement of delicate disdain which Scorpius had always taken as refusal.

“In that case I should bring you back to the owlery for the night. Is that okay?”

The hawk bobbed its neck in his direction, and again seemed to want to perch on him.

“Here,” Scorpius said as an idea occurred to him. He took off his robe and folded it in half before draping it over his left arm. Understanding this gesture at once, Albird hopped up onto his robed arm and gave a rather emphatic squawk, as though to say _this is where I’m supposed to be._

By the time they reached the owlery the Hufflepuff Quidditch team was returning to the castle sweaty, bedraggled, and wind-chafed, and the sunset was reaching its point of fullest glory. Even though Scorpius had been getting somewhat regular headaches since the attack, and the right side of his jaw still clicked sometimes, and one of his molars would always be missing, he wasn’t afraid to be outside by himself as it got darker. His shoulder had finally stopped hurting, and for that he was grateful. He doubted that Wendell and the other boys would attack him again, and he couldn’t muster much energy to care about the possibility that someone else might. He would fight back, and he would most likely lose. As long as he was the only one getting hurt it didn’t really matter one way or the other. 

Albird took off from his arm, flying in an elegant spiral to the top of the owlery, as though making sure that all of the other birds got a chance to acknowledge his return. Scorpius grinned up into the hay-scented air as the hawk disappeared into his nest nook, and listened to the birds for a moment before reluctantly leaving the owlery. As he was coming down the stone steps, he saw Euan and Elliot, the Gryffindor twins who were in Falconry Club with him, coming from the direction of the Forbidden Forest with their hawks. The three of them paused upon noticing each other and the twins gave him fraternal nods which were almost perfectly synchronized. Scorpius nodded back. 

“Goin’ t’see Bill?” Euan asked. Scorpius frowned.

“Did something happen to him?”

“‘E thrashed tha tosser what got you with ‘is bat.”

“He-he beat up Wendell?”

They nodded together solemnly while Scorpius looked between them in confusion.

“Why?”

“Jus’ told you,” Elliot said.

“‘E’s in the Hospital Wing,” Euan said.

“I-thanks, for telling me, I’ll go there now.”

Neither of the twins said anything, but Scorpius could feel their eyes on his back as he hurried on to the castle.

 

Candy had turned in right after dinner, saying she didn’t feel well, and Albus was sitting at his favorite table by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room when Scorpius came in and rushed over to tell him that Bill Rowe had fought Wendell. At once Albus began packing up his books and papers, hastily tossing his school bag onto his bed in their dormitory before hurrying off to the Hospital Wing with Scorpius. A bad case of dryad fever had broken out in Ravenclaw, so almost all of the beds were full of dazed-looking students with damp washcloths draped over their foreheads, and the first thing Albus noticed was that Rowe was not in a bed at all. He was sitting on a wooden chair at the back of the room in front of Pomfrey’s office and his posture struck Albus as strangely rigid; his back was straight but his head drooped forward, and he stared blankly at the floor in front of him. As Albus and Scorpius approached Madame Pomfrey came out of her office, looking wary.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gotten into it again,” she said.

“No ma’am,” Albus said at once, and the elderly witch visibly sighed with relief. He went on, “We actually just came to visit Rowe.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy lift his head to look at them, his face registering a kind of dim surprise. Madam Pomfrey eyed them for a moment, her expression unreadable.

“That’s fine,” she said finally, “You can pull up a couple of chairs and talk to him here, but I’ll need to hold on to your wands.”

“Our wands?” Scorpius asked, “Why?”

“Headmistress’ order,” she said, holding out her hand, “Your wands, please.”

Albus and Scorpius glanced at each other but gave up their wands, which she carried back to her office and placed on her desk where they could see them. Rowe’s head was turned back towards the floor, but Albus could feel him watching them as they brought over chairs. Once Albus and Scorpius had sat down he looked up at them. His right eye was swollen closed and blackening, making the aquamarine color of the left shockingly vivid by comparison. His uniform was in a state; his red and gold tie half-torn from his neck, the collar of his shirt crushed with white strings dangling where the first two buttons had been. With perfect clarity Albus could picture that collar clenched in Wendell’s fist and swallowed in sympathy. 

“Alright, Bill?” Scorpius asked, looking uncertain. Rowe gave him a tired smirk.

“Never better.”

“What happened?” Albus asked. A strange kind of twitch went through Rowe’s shoulders before he answered.

“Saw that wanker in the halls by 'imself an’ decided to have a go.”

Albus frowned, but was not sure how to phrase his next question. Luckily, Scorpius asked it for him.

“I thought you had a binding spell...to keep you from fighting?”

Rowe’s grin widened and Albus sensed that the other boy wanted to lean forward conspiratorially, but his back remained rigidly straight against the chair.

“Today was supposed to be the start of my probation,” he said, voice low, “Knew I’d only get the one shot.”

Albus wasn’t sure how to respond to this and glanced over at Scorpius, who seemed equally taken aback.

“Why did you pick Wendell?”

Rowe looked away, the twitching movement going through his shoulders again, and Albus realized that he was trying to shrug but couldn’t. 

“We’re in club together,” Rowe muttered, staring at the floor between their chairs.

There was a moment of silence in which Albus glanced over at Scorpius, who was watching Rowe with a somewhat stunned expression on his face. Albus thought he had a pretty good idea of what was going through the other boy’s mind. Again he felt a guilty tug in the pit of his stomach that he hadn’t done more to stand up against Wendell and the others during the fight.

“I-thank you,” Scorpius said to Rowe, clearly still at a loss, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

Scorpius smiled tentatively.

“Was it a good fight at least?”

Rowe suddenly grinned up at him, looking like a jack-o-lantern with his missing eyeteeth.

“It was shite,” he said, “Got in a few good blows when I run up on ‘im but once the surprise wore off he wrung me out. Mean fucker,” he shook his head, still smiling, and Albus couldn’t figure out what part of the situation was supposed to be funny. Scorpius glanced over to where Pomfrey sat at her desk on the other side of the glass, writing in a ledger.

“Why aren’t we allowed to have our wands when we’re visiting you?” he asked. Rowe rolled his eyes, his smile fading.

“Might try to help me out or somethin’, take off the sodding binding spell, I don’t know,” his eyes had gone dull and unfocused again, “McGonagall isn’t giving me any more chances.”

“You aren’t getting expelled, are you?” Albus asked.

“The wankers at the top want her to, but when I’m here my little brothers get my bed an’ my folks won’t take me back ‘til June,” he tried to shrug again, “Guess it’s less trouble to keep me at Hogwarts.”

“Would you rather leave?” Scorpius asked, his tone sympathetic. To Albus’ slight surprise Rowe shook his head emphatically, but did not elaborate further. Before either of them could say anything else the other boy looked up at Scorpius again with renewed interest.

“Your hawk turn up yet?”

Scorpius smiled.

“He did, actually-”

“Wait, really?” Albus asked.

“Yah, just an hour or so ago.”

“He alright?” Rowe asked, his expression serious, and Scorpius nodded, practically radiating relief.

“Like nothing happened.”

“Good,” Rowe said, “He’s a tough one.”

“I am so glad, Scorpius,” Albus added. 

The three of them lapsed into another awkward silence as the sky beyond the windows of the Hospital Wing continued to darken and the other patients shifted restlessly in their beds, coughing and occasionally moaning as Madam Pomfrey made her rounds, changing out washcloths and administering potions.

“Are you going to have to stay here overnight?” Scorpius asked.

Rowe shook his head.

“At some point McGonagall’s supposed to come an’ _escort_ me back to Gryffindor, make sure I’m bound to my bed and locked in for the night. It’s alright though,” he winked, “the twins are ready to hit back whenever I give ‘em the word.”

A rush of indignation unexpectedly washed over Albus, and he felt his fingernails pressing into the palms of his hands. What good was actually being done here? How did it help Rowe to spend his life bound up and treated like a wild animal? If Wendell had gotten a light punishment for attacking him and Scorpius without provocation, how much less had he gotten for fighting Rowe? Did he even get punished at all? And having Euan and Elliot attack Wendell would just keep the cycle of retaliation going. Albus glanced up to check that Pomfrey was on the far side of the room before he spoke.

“Hey Rowe,” he said, keeping his voice down, “if there was a way to get back at Wendell without fighting, would you be interested?”

The other boy’s expression didn’t change but Albus could tell that he had his attention.

“What did you have in mind?” Rowe asked, his tone casual. 

“Nothing yet, but if I came up with something could I count on you to help out?”

“Albus-” Scorpius whispered.

Rowe’s good eye narrowed and he smirked.

“I reckon you could, Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW this is a longer chapter than I usually post! I'm sorry if it's too long but I am quite thrilled to be posting it. My October and November got obliterated by NaNoWriMo (I'm the Municipal Liaison for my region) and I'm hoping to get back on a monthly posting schedule - I haven't abandoned the story! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, expanding on the crux of Candy's arc, exploring the Hogwarts grounds, and getting to know Bill Rowe a little better :)


	6. The Pensieve Flood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Candy begins to experience the fallout from her confrontation with Nerys and Claudette, and a new prank against the Slytherins pushes Scorpius to take a stand.

“I just don’t know whether we should be encouraging Rowe to put himself in a situation where he could get in even more trouble,” Scorpius said, looking over their breakfast options with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

“Which is why we need to come up with something good,” Albus whispered, pouring honey into his porridge, “Something so clever that no one has to find out he was involved.”

The other boy was watching him, looking doubtful, and Albus rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like I’ve actually come up with anything yet, you know that, but there’s nothing wrong with figuring out who’s on our side,” he paused, raising his eyebrows, “We _do_ have allies, Scorpius.” 

Before Scorpius could respond, the door to the Great Hall opened and Candy and Max came in. At first Candy seemed as though she was going to head down the opposite side of table to sit next to Scorpius, but then she hesitated and did an odd little shuffle around Max, coming instead to the other side of the table, her cheeks slightly pink as she sat down next to Albus and Max took the spot next to Scorpius. 

“Are you feeling better?” Albus asked her.

For a moment she blinked at him as though she didn’t understand, a pretty little crease between her eyebrows, then her face relaxed and she nodded.

“Oh-yah, I’m fine, thanks. I think it was just something I ate.”

“Is Nerys still getting ready or something?” Albus asked, glancing again at the massive wooden doors of the hall. Across the table Max’s eyes darted in Candy’s direction and she sat up a little straighter, clearing her throat as she began to spread butter on her toast.

“She’s already here,” she said.

When he frowned at her she discreetly indicated with her knife where Nerys sat by herself in the middle of the long table, her curtain of black hair screening her face from view as she picked at her food.

“Oh,” Albus said, “I didn’t even notice her down there when we came in; I just assumed she would be with you.”

“Well she’s not,” Candy said on an exhalation, her tone brisk, and Albus finally realized that he had missed something, a hunch which was immediately confirmed when he glanced across the table at Scorpius, who raised his eyebrows as if to say _good of you to join us._

“Is everything okay?” Albus asked Candy, lowering his voice.

“It’s nothing,” she said, not looking up at any of them as she proceeded to add jam to her toast, the crimson color of it almost violent in the pale morning light. “Me, her and Claudette had an argument, that’s all,” she shrugged, “They were kind of crap friends anyway.”

Her tone was light and she looked between the three of them as though pressing a seal into wax, communicating clearly that this was all she wished to say on the matter, before biting into her toast. 

Over the next few days, however, Albus began to have an ominous feeling that Candy’s explanation had been a dire understatement. Nerys and Claudette were seen around the castle with a revolving crowd of girls from not only Slytherin and Hufflepuff but Ravenclaw and Gryffindor as well, all of them whispering together and leveling their collective disdain at Candy whenever she appeared. Increasingly it felt as though he, Scorpius and Max were bodyguards when they walked through the halls with Candy, constantly aware of any hostility being directed towards her. For her part Candy remained unfazed, even defiant, but Albus couldn’t imagine that she was genuinely as indifferent as she appeared. 

The following Wednesday found them in Defense Against the Dark Arts, lining up at the tall cabinet in the back of the classroom to select Pensieves as they did every week. Candy and Max paired up together while Albus and Scorpius took the table just behind them. Nerys was at a table across the aisle with two other Slytherin girls, their heads bent together in whispered conversation as they set up their Pensieves, occasionally glancing over at Candy with secretive, taunting looks.

As a task for the Scholar’s Trials their fellow Slytherin Andrew, now a fourth-year, was acting as Professor Dalca’s assistant for the period, walking up and down the aisle offering suggestions and answering questions as needed, his manner simultaneously convivial and anxious. When Albus glanced over at Scorpius he caught the other boy watching Andrew with a sympathetic expression that matched his own.

“It’s not easy being a friendly Slytherin,” Albus whispered. 

“Even under the best of circumstances,” Scorpius said.

They proceeded with the assignment as usual, attempting to withdraw memories and get them into the Pensieves. Dalca was observing from her blackboard at the front of the room while Andrew bent over one of the tables, helping someone pull the wand away from their temple without the memory breaking loose. Albus had managed to deposit his memory into the Pensieve and was watching it take shape when there was a creaking tumbling crash from the front of the classroom, accompanied by cries of alarm and confusion. Albus had just enough time to see water spiraling into the air before another table collapsed, the sound tremendous, when his table suddenly jerked and gave way. His and Scorpius’ Pensieves toppled, and before he knew it Albus was falling forward into nothing.

 

~

 

He hit the ground as though he had simply tripped over his shoelace, but Albus knew at once that he was no longer at Hogwarts. Instead of the unyielding stone floor of the DADA classroom he’d landed on an elaborately patterned rug. When he lifted his head he saw that he was in a room so elegant it looked like a museum or something from a movie. The ceiling was high with delicate flowers and vines carved into the moulding and the walls were a pale eggshell blue. Warm sunshine was coming in through the tall open windows and Albus could hear birdsong outside. A sudden rustle of movement made him jump and he turned to see a small boy sitting on the other side of the room in the middle of a swirling galaxy of drawing paper, crayons, and colored pencils. He was barefoot and his old-fashioned white and khaki clothes made him look as though he was on summer holiday in the 1920s, but Albus knew better.

“Hello, Scorpius,” he murmured.

The other boy was sitting cross-legged with a drawing pad in his lap, his white-blonde hair bright as a candle flame in the sunlight. While tumbling into a Pensieve memory hadn’t been all that different from side-along Apparition or using a Portkey, Albus still felt shaky and a little sick to his stomach as he got to his feet and crossed the room. Scorpius looked about eight, Albus guessed as he crouched down next to him, fine-boned and so fair that he could have been a china doll. He was working on a picture of what looked like water, a series of choppy blue scalloped lines, with a little frown of concentration that made Albus smile. The other pieces of paper around him showed towers and trees, horses, flowers, and what looked like music notes grouped together in unfathomable constellations.

“I like your pictures,” he said, and to his amazement Scorpius stopped drawing and his eyes darted a little in Albus’ direction. Albus blinked, watching him carefully.

“Can-can you _hear_ me?”

Scorpius’ frown deepened slightly but he went back to his drawing without further response.

“I don’t see how you could,” Albus went on, “that’s not how Pensieves work,” he smiled again, “But I suppose if anyone could do it, it would be you.”

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Scorpius added clouds to what was looking like an ocean, and then began drawing a squat, thorny tree in the foreground. Albus looked around them. _So this must be Malfoy Manor,_ he thought. It wasn’t what he had expected at all; most of the wall space was taken up by landscape paintings in heavy gilt frames and a medieval-looking tapestry which covered an entire wall. The arrangement of the furniture gave Albus the impression of a sitting room where guests might be received and served tea. The idea of Voldemort and his Death Eaters committing atrocities in a place like this was almost laughably absurd. As much as Albus wanted to see how much of it he could explore within the limited bounds of the memory, he also felt reluctant to leave Scorpius in the large silent room by himself.

“Where’s your mum and dad, eh?” He asked quietly.

Again he could have sworn that Scorpius sensed him there; there was a tiny hesitation in his movements as though a butterfly had just landed on him. Albus leaned in a little closer.

“Things are gonna get better, Scorpius, I promise. You’ll be going to Hogwarts soon and you’re going to be brilliant there.”

Even as he said it Albus remembered the look on Scorpius’ face when he was Sorted into Slytherin; he could still hear the crack of Wendell’s bat breaking his jaw. Heart sinking, he watched Scorpius flip to a new page in the pad, solemnly contemplating his implements before selecting a thick black crayon.

“You’re my best friend,” Albus murmured, “And I’m yours.”

Scorpius’ head was bent over his paper again and Albus reached experimentally for a nearby colored pencil, feeling equally disappointed and relieved when his hand passed through it. He laughed a little to himself.

“I know I should be trying to figure out how to get back, but I have no idea where I would even start, so if it’s okay with you I’m just gonna wait here until someone gets me out.”

While there was no indication that Scorpius had heard him, he had stopped drawing and looked up from the pad, his gaze unfocused, the tip of his crayon poised against the paper. Suddenly Albus heard a door opening in the next room and a squeal of childish laughter rang out. Surprised, Albus stood up and walked to the open door. A boy and a man had just entered the next room from outside, both of them laughing and out of breath as though they’d been running. The man bent down and scooped up the little boy, who shrieked and struggled happily.

“You cheated!” the boy cried, “You cheated, I’m not it!”

“Yes you are; I caught you fair and square!”

With a sense of shock and confusion so profound that he felt momentarily light-headed, Albus realized that this little boy was _also_ Scorpius, and that the man holding him was Draco. Albus looked back and saw the first Scorpius sitting right where he’d left him, drawing quietly and completely oblivious to what was happening. In the next room Draco planted a kiss on the top of the second Scorpius’ head and lowered him to the ground once more, putting his hands on his hips and regarding his son with amusement. Scorpius, who couldn’t have been more than five, copied him, giggling.

“Are we done playing tag, then?”

“Yes,” Scorpius said, nodding decisively.

“What should we do next?”

Even though Albus knew that the man he was looking at was Draco, it didn’t seem possible. This Draco was so unlike the one Albus saw at King’s Cross that he could have been an uncle or younger brother. He looked strong and healthy; his smile bright and his eyes full of Scorpius as though nothing else existed. Scorpius, who had been considering his father’s question, piped up excitedly.

“Can we have lunch?”

Draco laughed.

“Yes, we can have lunch.”

Albus watched them walk out of the room hand in hand, their voices moving farther away until he couldn’t hear them anymore. He turned back to the solitary Scorpius, who hadn’t moved.

“I…,” Albus began, bewildered, “What was that?”

After what had just happened he half-expected Scorpius to look up and explain everything to him in his calm, matter-of-fact way, but the other boy simply continued with his drawing. Albus came back and sat down cross-legged next to him, feeling unnerved and thoughtful. The expression of muted loneliness on his friend’s face was as familiar at eight as it was at thirteen.

“I think that must have been _your_ memory,” Albus said.

 

~

 

The first thing Scorpius was aware of was how cold the floor was. He had landed on waxy laminate tiles and pushed himself up onto his knees, wiping his hands on his pants. The room he had been transported to was unmistakably Muggle. The ceiling was low with semi-opaque panels which glowed with harsh electric light. He got the impression that he was in a cafeteria of some kind; there were four long tables with attached metal benches and a poster of a healthy eating guide affixed to one of the wood-paneled walls, its cartoon peas and ham slices providing the only bright colors in the room. The air was sharp with a mechanical arctic chill which Scorpius associated exclusively with Muggle life in hot weather. 

A middle-aged black woman in a faded pink t-shirt and grey sweatpants was sitting at one of the tables reading a glossy magazine with a white Styrofoam cup of coffee, looking weary and bored. At another table two women who looked as though they were in their early twenties were typing intently on their mobile phones. From where Scorpius stood he could see that one side of the cafeteria led into what looked like a sitting room, with rough brown carpeting and blocky wooden furniture with grey vinyl cushions. A window above one of the couches was letting in low, bright amber sunlight through plastic vertical blinds; Scorpius guessed that it was evening. The other side of the cafeteria branched off into narrow, dim hallways with the same wood-paneled walls and brown carpet. The overall effect was claustrophobic and institutional, and Scorpius was just beginning to wonder how he was going to get out when a cacophony of squealing and laughter came from the direction of the common room.

As Scorpius turned towards the commotion he saw a large panicked-looking barn owl with a small bundle tied to its leg being chased out of an adjoining hallway by a group of excited children. There were boys and girls of every color, the youngest of which looked about four and the oldest eleven, speaking a confusing jumble of languages. They jumped and covered their mouths with glee every time the owl hopped or flapped its wings. The two younger women in the cafeteria jumped up from their table with shrieks of alarm and the middle-aged woman called out something to the children that Scorpius couldn’t understand, looking put upon as she slowly got to her feet. The children talked over each other to explain, and Scorpius gathered that the owl had flown in through an open window. The woman had taken up a nearby broom and was heading towards them, while the other two women continued to yelp every time the owl moved as though it were a viper. 

“I’ll get it,” came a familiar voice from the back of the cafeteria, and Scorpius turned to see Candy striding forward, looking embarrassed and harried. Her long thick hair was swinging around her shoulders in loose waves and she was wearing a fuchsia tank top and cut-off denim shorts with yellow rubber flip flops. The older woman folded her arms across her substantial chest and raised one eyebrow, looking skeptical. Candy avoided the woman’s gaze as she passed by and the children grudgingly withdrew from the owl as Candy bent down to pick it up. One of the younger women was smirking now and said something that sounded sarcastic which Candy ignored, leaving the room with the owl while the children watched disappointedly.

Eager to leave the strange cold room Scorpius followed Candy through a door and out onto the sidewalk of a narrow street lined with cars and scattered rubbish in the gutters. Scorpius guessed that they must be in Middlesbrough; brick and concrete buildings crowded together, bright neon script blinking insistently between the iron bars which covered several of the street level windows. The building they had just come out of was two storeys tall and made of red brick, but there was no sign that Scorpius could see indicating what sort of facility it was. A wooden fence over six feet high ran between it and the next building. Beyond the rooftops the sun was setting and the cloudless sky was slowly turning from pink to lavender. The owl was calm now; Candy had set it on the sidewalk and was crouched down next to it, unfastening the bundle from its leg. Scorpius found it very strange to see her in Muggle clothing. She almost looked like a different person and he was also uncomfortably aware of how _much_ of her he was seeing. Her outgrown shorts were barely long enough to cover her round hips and the thin material of the tank top clung to her chest, not quite covering a strip of dusky skin around her middle. Once the owl had been relieved of its burden it tilted its head up at her with a hopeful chitter.

“I don’t have anything for you, but there’s a garden back there,” she indicated the fence behind them with a jerk of her head, “You might be able to find a mouse or something.”

The owl gave an agreeable hoot and took flight, disappearing over the fence with a rush of feathers. Candy watched it go and then attempted to break open the scroll’s wax seal. When the parchment began to tear she instinctively felt her back pocket, as though expecting to find her wand, and sighed before proceeding to carefully rip her way around the seal. Scorpius looked over her shoulder as she opened the scroll and saw that it was the same start of term notice from Hogwarts that he’d received back in August, listing their new school books and reminding them of when the train was set to depart from London and Leeds. Unlike Scorpius, however, Candy had also received a small burlap pouch and she opened it, counting the gold coins inside dispassionately before squeezing both pouch and parchment into the pocket of her shorts.

Across the street a door opened and a bearded man wearing a dark blue turban came out and closed the door behind him before sitting down on the concrete stoop with what looked like a cup of tea. He was dressed in tan linen trousers and a pale blue long-sleeved tunic, his black beard streaked with white and his golden olive complexion very similar to Candy’s. Scorpius saw the man spot Candy from across the street and noticed the way his eyes passed over her, but sensed at once that his gaze was concerned rather than lecherous. Candy was leaning against the wooden fence with one foot braced against it and her arms folded across her chest, her hips angled forward. Her expression was blank and Scorpius wasn’t sure that she’d noticed the man across the street at all until he called out to her in a heavy Middle-Eastern accent.

“What is your name, child?”

Candy glanced over at him, her hazel eyes guarded.

“Candy,” she called back.

The man nodded, turning his cup a little in his hands and looking up and down the deserted road, then at the darkening sky.

“You should not be outside much longer, Candy,” he said.

Candy frowned.

“Why not?”

The man didn’t answer right away, casting another troubled look down the street, which as far as Scorpius could see didn’t look any different from where they were.

“It is not always safe,” the man said finally, his tone gentle but insistent, “for young girls at night.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment before Candy rolled her eyes and stepped off from the fence, going back into the building while the man watched in silence.

 

~

 

Albus felt a strange sickening swoop in his stomach and Malfoy Manor suddenly rushed away as he was violently pulled backwards. He had just enough time to feel a moment of panic before he was suddenly back in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, suspended in the air as though it were water. He twisted awkwardly and saw Scorpius hovering nearby with Candy and Max, all of them looking just as disoriented and confused as he was. Their classmates were similarly suspended and in the middle of the room Professor Nejem was standing on a chair with his wand held aloft and a look of grim concentration on his face, his black eyes darting between the airborne students. Professor Dalca was standing on her desk, pointing her wand at a puddle of Pensieve water and saying a complicated incantation. With a loud crack of air Marcus was pulled from the water and promptly vomited as Nejem’s spell caught and held him in the air. Dalca cleared away the water and the small puddle of sick before climbing down onto a dry piece of one of the broken tables and peering at the floor.

“How many are still missing, Amalia?” Professor Nejem asked, his voice low.

“Three,” she said evenly, “I found more water, keep them up.”

While Dalca was repeating her incantation, a rush of footsteps announced the arrival of the Headmistress, who stood in the doorway of the classroom looking alarmed and quickly produced her own wand, pulling the students from Professor Nejem’s spell one by one and levitating them into the hallway where they were set back down on the ground. Some of the girls were sobbing and a few of the boys looked as though they wanted to as well. Students from other classrooms were poking their heads into the hallway as their teachers tried to call them back in, and the Slytherins huddled together, whispering to each other in bewildered confusion while the Headmistress stood watch over them.

“What _was_ that?”

“What happened?”

The first theory, almost universally agreed upon at once, was that someone from another House had snuck in and sabotaged the tables so that they would break. Albus could feel the accusatory glares being directed towards himself, Scorpius and Candy, but he could hardly bring himself to care. The relief he had felt at being pulled from the Pensieve water was rapidly being undercut by the dawning horror of what might have happened if he hadn’t been. He drew closer to his friends, looking between them.

“Are you all alright?”

Scorpius, Candy and Max all nodded automatically, which was unconvincing given how pale and shaken they looked. 

“Did any of you get,” he hesitated, “you know, pulled in?”

Scorpius coloured as he nodded, and Candy glanced at Max, who was staring resolutely at the floor, his hands clenched. None of them elaborated and Albus didn’t know whether he should question them further, desperately curious but aware of their discomfort as they avoided each other’s eyes. He could still feel the warmth of the sunbeam he and Scorpius had been sitting in at the Manor and knew instinctively that the other boy would not want his memory discussed in front of anyone. Albus was intensely grateful that he had chosen a simple happy memory of teaching Lily how to fish in the creek behind the Burrow.

The door of the DADA classroom opened again and two more of their classmates came out into the hallway along with Professor Dalca, who was very pale and seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“Headmistress?” She said, her voice hollow. McGonagall nodded at once and stepped forward as Nejem came to the door, gently touching the small of Dalca’s back as he moved around her into the hallway. Once Dalca and McGonagall had returned to the classroom Nejem looked around at the students and blinked rapidly for a moment before taking a deep breath and rubbing his hands together. 

“Does anyone need, or want, to go to the Hospital Wing?”

No one said anything and several of them were staring at Professor Nejem as though they hadn’t heard a word he’d said. Bernard was standing with a firm, stolid hand on Marcus’ shoulder while the other boy’s jaw worked silently, his eyes bright, and Nerys seemed completely unaware of the tears running down her face as she stared blankly ahead of her. 

“That’s alright,” Nejem said, “You’re all excused from the rest of your classes today. If you want to go back to your dormitories and rest, or decide that you want to go to the Hospital Wing after all, you’re free to do so.”

One of the girls raised her hand and Nejem nodded to her kindly.

“Has Professor Dalca gotten Andrew back yet?”

Nejem’s strained smile slipped away and he rubbed his hands together again.

“Not yet,” he said, “but she and the Headmistress are working on that right now. Between the two of them I have a feeling it won’t take very long.”

Albus’ heart gave a small lurch in his chest. He had forgotten that someone was still missing, and looking around at his classmates he saw several of their faces registering the alarm he was now feeling. Professor Nejem went on, a slight tremor in his voice.

“That being said, I would ask that you keep Mr. Riley’s absence to yourselves for the time being so that it can be communicated by myself, Professor Dalca, and the Headmistress. Is that understood?” 

Many of them nodded vaguely in agreement and Nejem conjured his Patronus, a large and fierce looking she-wolf which accompanied them to the dungeons and dissipated into the shadows as the last of them climbed through the door into the empty common room. Once there they dispersed and retreated into their own small worlds of isolation or companionship, the mood almost funereal. Albus ended up sitting on Scorpius’ bed with the Silencing spell cast over them. They quietly confessed the memories they had been pulled into, with Albus omitting most of what he’d experienced, and sat together in silence afterwards.

“Do you think they’ll be able to get Andrew back?” Albus asked. Scorpius was sitting with his back against the headboard of his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, looking doubtful.

“I don’t know,” he said, “There was so much water, and he was standing between all those tables…”

“What if water from different Pensieves mixed together and he got pulled into a bunch of different memories? Can that even happen?”

“Does Pensieve water _dry?_ ” Scorpius went on, half to himself, “And what happens if you’re still in it when it does?”

Albus shivered, feeling sick to his stomach as he thought of Andrew’s twin sister Ava, who was in Ravenclaw and surely would have been told what had happened by now. After a minute or so Scorpius started speaking again, his words slow and careful.

“What you were talking about with Bill, about getting even,” Albus looked up to see a grim resolve in his large grey eyes, “I’ll help you, whatever the plan is, because you were right. This can’t go on.”

Albus blinked, surprised and grateful. He held out his hand and Scorpius took it.

“Deal,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those chapters where I don't feel like I'm doing all that much to move the plot, but I love the ideas so much that I don't really care. I have a feeling that if Pensieves actually existed, being spill-proof would be an essential part of their design, but this version offered way more potential for drama, not to mention the horror of being physically trapped in water (an earlier draft had wooden floor boards in the DADA classroom with gaps and cracks for the water to seep into). I also had a lot of fun bringing Albus to Malfoy Manor for the first time and seeing Candy's world through Scorpius' eyes :)


	7. The Ghost of Severus Snape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus looks for answers after the Pensieve flood and finds more than he was expecting.

As he had done at least once a day since the Pensieve flood, Albus found himself contemplating the sealed door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It had been two weeks. DADA classes had been moved to another room and years one through three were being taught by a young auror from the Ministry of Magic who was substituting for Professor Dalca. It had been two weeks, and there was still no sign of Andrew Riley. Deep in thought, Albus reluctantly turned his eyes from the heavy wooden door and continued walking down the hallway. 

The hazy sunlight illuminating the windows felt antiseptic and raw, like hands which had spent too much time cleaning with harsh chemicals, and the sky beyond was the thin half-hearted color of an old dish towel. Even though it was Saturday the castle felt oddly subdued, an impression which had been noticeably pronounced since the flood. It had been two weeks and no one had been brought forward as the perpetrator. As days continued to pass without confession or retribution, an unacknowledged silence seemed to be growing bigger and bigger within the heart of Hogwarts. The door of the old DADA classroom didn’t even have a sign; the magical barrier prevented entry and no one needed to ask why.

Stepping outside felt jarring in comparison, like crossing into a living storybook. The grass was green, the leaves of the trees turning in riotous bleeds of color, Hagrid’s pumpkins ballooning magnificently, and a fluctuating chorus of cheers echoed over the grounds from the Quidditch pitch. Checking his watch, Albus hurried his steps towards the noise. As he approached the pitch he could see the players more clearly, their team colors flashing red and blue. An elaborate wooden lattice supported the lower stands which enclosed the pitch, and large brightly-coloured banners hung from the back of each section. Albus followed the curve of the stands until he came to a banner which commemorated the record-breaking Hufflepuff winning streak of 1952 and ducked behind it into the geometric jungle of wooden beams beneath the stands.

“Nearly ten minutes late,” Rose said, “You’re lucky we didn’t give up on you.”

She and Lily were loitering in the shadows and the whole situation struck Albus as wonderfully clandestine. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Thanks for waiting.”

“No Scorpius?” Lily asked, her orange eyebrows giving a polite little lift. Albus shook his head.

“His detention’s in the library with Madame Sylvestra today.” 

“And where are you supposed to be?” Rose asked, in a tone of voice which could only be described as “Future Prefect”. Albus couldn’t help but smile.

“Helping Hagrid and Jonas. Don’t worry, I’m not due to report to them for another twenty minutes.”

“So you could afford to be late, in other words,” Rose said, unmollified. Albus rolled his eyes.

“I said I was sorry, alright? You can go back to the match if you’re that put out about it.”

His cousin looked as though she very much wanted to tell him to sod off, but after exchanging a brief enigmatic look with Lily she relented. 

“Whatever. What did you want to talk about?”

There was a rush of air above them as players shot past, accompanied by the appreciative roar of the spectators. Albus stepped close to the girls so that he could keep his voice low.

“I was just wondering what people in your Houses are saying about the Pensieve flood.”

Lily’s legs swung in slow arcs from where she perched on a cross beam, her shoes occasionally clunking together like unenthusiastic bell clappers. She gave Albus a small commiserating smile. 

“No one’s fessed up, if that’s what you were hoping for.”

“I kind of figured,” Albus admitted, “If there was even a rumor about that the whole school would know already.” He looked between them. “Does everyone think my class was the target?”

They stared back at him soberly.

“It’s all I’ve heard,” Rose said.

“And that one of the fourth-year Gryffindors did it,” Lily added.

Rose’s frizzy red braid slipped from her shoulder as her head turned in the other girl’s direction, and for a moment it looked as though she wanted to protest, but Lily stopped her with a pointed look.

“It had to have been done that morning,” Albus said, “and it was either them or the first-year Hufflepuffs.”

Rose crossed her arms and shifted from one foot to the other, looking resigned.

“The Headmistress came to up to our Common Room last week to speak to us, urging anyone with information to come forward. I don’t think she wanted to come right out and say that she thinks a Gryffindor is responsible, but it was pretty clear.”

“Do you know if anyone’s gone up to talk to her? Or been called for questioning?” Albus asked.

“Not that I’ve heard,” Rose hesitated, opening her mouth as though to say more and then closing it again, looking away from them.

“They might never find Andrew Riley, Rose,” Lily said, watching her solemnly, “We all know it.”

Rose’s features contracted in distress, her eyes bright as she looked from Lily to Albus. Above them the Quidditch spectators burst into another cacophony of applause. 

“Jack Houndslowe has been quieter than usual, ever since it happened,” Rose said, “He’s a fourth-year.”

“Houndslowe,” Albus repeated, frowning, “Why is that name familiar?”

“He’s one of James’ friends,” Rose said, watching for his reaction, her voice low. Albus felt his jaw tighten.

“You said he’s been quiet,” Lily said, “Does it seem like a guilty quiet?”

Rose looked even more reluctant.

“Not really. More like...he’s trying to keep his head down.” 

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he did it,” Lily pointed out, “He might just know something.”

The three of them fell silent as the crowd continued to taunt and cheer in waves of sound above them. Albus guessed that the match must be approaching its climax. 

“How’s Ava doing?” he asked Lily, whose expression darkened at once.

“About as well as you’d expect. She had a full-on meltdown when her parents tried to take her home and swears that she isn’t going to leave Hogwarts without her brother.”

“How awful,” Rose murmured, sniffing. The noise of the pitch was beginning to crescendo around them, a chant of _“POTTER! POTTER! POTTER! POTTER!”_ ringing through the stands before it erupted into deafening jubilation. A magically amplified voice told them that James Potter had caught the Golden Snitch and Albus looked down at his watch.

“Bollocks,” he muttered, “I need to get going to Hagrid’s.” He smiled at them apologetically. “Thanks for this; I’m sorry you had to miss the end of the match.”

“Oh it’s alright,” Rose said at once.

“There will be others,” Lily added dryly.

 

Albus didn’t bother going to Hagrid’s cabin, heading instead for the stables and the emerging colony of clay domes which surrounded them. As he had known they would be, Hagrid and Jonas were hard at work. While the first stable was used primarily for drying and storing the bricks, the second housed the large cement vats in which the clay was being mixed according to the precise needs of the Opal Nautili. Hagrid was standing over one of these in a long dirty apron, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows as he stirred the clay with a thick wooden pole.

“Al!” he crowed happily, cheeks rosy with exertion, “Yer right on time.”

“One delinquent, reporting for duty,” Albus said, smiling as his godfather set aside the pole to come hug him.

“None o’ that,” Hagrid scolded with gruff affection, “We both know yeh weren’ in the wrong.”

“Afternoon, Albus,” Jonas called, emerging from the shade of the Forbidden Forest behind a wheelbarrow heaped with an assortment of leaves and wildflowers. He was a soft-spoken Irishman, Albus guessed in his mid-twenties, with long brown hair which he wore in a ponytail and jade gauges the size of galleons in his earlobes. His sleeves were rolled back like Hagrid’s, showing the intricate Celtic patterns tattooed over his forearms.

“Alright Jonas,” Albus called back, “What do the two of you have for me today?”

“Actually,” Hagrid said, motioning for Jonas to bring the wheelbarrow over to them, “We were hopin’ yeh might help us round up more Shepherd’s Purse fer the clay.”

Jonas took a flower from the pile in the wheelbarrow and held it out to Albus. The long thin stem ended in a delicate little rosette of heart-shaped leaves and white blossoms the size of snowflakes. Hagrid had gone back into one of the stalls within the stable and returned with a shallow woven basket for Albus to collect the flowers in.

“We’ve been findin’ ‘em ‘long the treeline,” he said, gesturing towards the Forbidden Forest, “an’ Bumper’s huntin’ nearby; she’ll make sure yeh don’ wander too far in.”

After delivering these guidelines the two men turned with great absorption to the almost alchemical process of adding the leaves and flowers Jonas had collected to the clay, and Albus was more than happy to leave them to it. In spite of the legends and warnings which had been sown in his imagination for as long as he could remember, Albus had never been particularly afraid of the Forbidden Forest and was privately rather excited to have an excuse to go exploring, even within the limited bounds he’d been given. It was definitely a forest that minded its own business, he thought, the antithesis of a carefully pruned, ornamental green space, and he respected that. 

Finding the Shepherd’s Purse was indeed challenging; Albus had gone almost a quarter of a mile down from the stables and half as far into the trees before he finally spotted a cluster of the long-stemmed flowers and stopped to carefully break them into the basket. Squinting into the dim overcast light he thought he could see another nearby and headed towards it. Upon stepping over a large gnarled root, however, he abruptly found himself in pocket of air which was darker and colder than the others and Albus came to a halt, his breath catching as he looked around cautiously. It occurred to him that he could no longer hear any birds, and he slowly drew his wand from the pocket of his jeans. 

Anticipating the supernatural, he wasn’t particularly startled when he saw the thin shimmer of grey in the air which, as he focused on it, seemed to coalesce until the form was recognizably human. Relieved to only be encountering a ghost, he lowered his wand and smiled, half-wondering if he was about to be guided to another magically warded hideaway.

“Hello,” he said.

It was a male ghost, he decided, wearing long black wizard’s robes. The details were hard to distinguish amid the busyness of their surroundings, but Albus had the impression of dark deep-set eyes and black hair which hung down on either side of his face, giving it a narrow, almost pinched look. His nose was large and hooked, and Albus suddenly felt a spark of recognition, but one so improbable that for a moment he couldn’t bring himself to actually believe it. The ghost hadn’t responded to Albus’ greeting, but continued to watch him with an intense, wary gaze. Albus put his wand back into his pocket and swallowed.

“Are you…are you Severus Snape?”

The ghost seemed to pull back slightly, as though recoiling from the question and his head hunched a little lower onto his shoulders, but he didn’t vanish.

“You are,” Albus said, feeling emboldened by this, “Please don’t leave, I’ve wanted to talk to you my whole life.”

“A waste,” the ghost said, his voice so deep and otherworldly that it took Albus a second to register what he had said. Unsure of how to respond, Albus rallied and went on, stumbling a little over his words.

“I was actually named after you, my middle name that is, I’m Albus Severus Potter.”

This seemed to catch the ghost’s attention and he drifted a little closer, staring intently into Albus’ face, his expression so distant that it was like looking out across an ocean. 

“Potter,” he repeated quietly. His voice was like the movement of heavy objects underwater, full of slow, purposeful weight. Albus nodded, hoping that he didn’t look intimidated.

“Yes, sir. My dad is Harry Potter.”

“I’m sure you’ve had a great deal of practice saying that,” the ghost said, his unexpected rush of words almost lost as Albus concentrated to catch all of them. Snape paused, his eyes glittering with an unsettling combination of bitter amusement and malevolence. When he spoke his voice was little more than a hiss, as though he had forgotten Albus could hear him. 

“Trapped between Albus and Potter for all eternity. It seems death is not without a sense of humor.”

Albus tried not to flinch. So far the encounter wasn’t going as he had hoped and he was suddenly aware of the rather absurd picture he presented; unkempt hair and grubby Muggle clothes with a basket of wildflowers on his arm.

“Dad told me you were the bravest man he ever knew.” This distinction, which Albus had secretly cherished, sounded lame now and he rushed to qualify it. “And I’m in Slytherin, just like you were.”

Snape rolled his eyes in what looked like contempt and seemed to retreat again, the details of his face and clothes blurring, his form becoming more transparent.

“I’m sorry,” Albus said quickly, certain that this opportunity would never be presented to him again, “I didn’t mean to offend you, or anything. Why are you in the forest?”

The ghost paused and looked at Albus again, his black brows coming together as though the question had been spoken in a foreign language. Albus tried again.

“I mean, why aren’t you in the castle?”

There was no reply.

“Are you looking for something?”

Something flickered deep within the ghost’s unfathomable black eyes and Albus brightened, eager to have a mission he could apply himself to.

“I could help you look for it, if you want, maybe with a locating spell or something?”

For a fraction of a second it seemed that the ghost might be considering his offer, but then his expression shifted back into one of sardonic disinterest. 

“I would not want to be in the castle, even if I were allowed.”

Albus blinked, momentarily thrown by the change of topic.

“You-you’re not allowed in the castle? Why not?”

There was another long silence.

“None of us are,” Snape responded silkily, “Have you not noticed our absence?” Then, with dripping sarcasm, “Astonishing.”

Albus frowned, uncertain. It was true that ghosts were not as ubiquitous within Hogwarts as he had always been led to believe, but Albus had never bothered to question this fact. Thinking about it now, he realized that he had simply assumed ghosts were temporary, fading from existence over time, and that the ones who lingered probably weren’t fond of being observed.

“Who decided that the ghosts wouldn’t be allowed in the castle anymore?”

Snape sneered again, more broadly this time, and Albus felt very small and foolish.

“Always meddling,” the ghost mused quietly, “I suppose at some level it must be genetic. Always talking and meddling and never seeming to accomplish very much.”

Belatedly realizing that this was a barbed reference to his father, Albus felt a spark of indignation and had to bite his tongue, intuiting at once that if he became defensive the ghost would vanish. Taking a deep breath, he tried to imagine how Scorpius might navigate the conversation. 

“What should I be accomplishing?” he asked. The dead man seemed to consider his question, even though his mocking amusement was still evident.

“Listen,” Snape said, the word drifting on a rustle of wind, “Listen and watch.”

“What am I listening and watching for?”

There was a long pause in which they regarded each other in silence.

“Delphia Crestfield,” Snape said finally, the faint smirk gone from his face.

Albus didn’t recognize the name and shook his head.

“Who is that?”

The ghost did not respond to Albus’ question. Instead he seemed to turn away in midair, and without the pale glow of his face to focus on, his form melted into the shade of the forest.

“Wait,” Albus called, “Please wait!”

He tried to follow, but the pocket of darkened air had evaporated. Birds were calling to each other in the branches above him and Albus knew that the ghost of Severus Snape was gone.

 

The Quidditch match meant that the Hogwarts library was quieter than usual; the only other students currently on the second floor were a group of third-year Ravenclaws idling at one of the nearby study tables. It was clear that they had long ago lost interest in their homework and Scorpius was attempting a stealth mission to find the book he was looking for without drawing their attention. Unfortunately, _A History of Most Useful Non-Existent Numbers_ was sitting on its shelf only two stacks away from them, and Scorpius knew that he’d been spotted as soon as he raised his arm to retrieve it. Before he could beat a hasty retreat he heard the scrape of chairs being pushed back and a moment later two of the boys were blocking the end of the aisle, eyeing him with a mixture of indifference and challenge which never boded well.

“We’ve been wondering something, Malfoy,” said the shorter of the two, careful to keep his voice down even on the second floor.

“I’m so sorry,” Scorpius replied easily, “That must chafe.”

The boy’s expression cooled even as his cocky smirk remained in place, and his companion gave a lazy grunt of laughter. The shorter boy went on.

“We’ve been wondering whether you and your mates have divvied up Briar yet.”

The nasty glee behind the words was palpable even if Scorpius wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. The taller boy spoke, voice slow and eyes half-lidded as he draped himself against the bookcase.

“Maybe you and the mousy one trade off during the week and Potter takes weekends?”

Scorpius’ grip on the book tightened involuntarily as his stomach turned in anger and embarrassment.

“Look at him,” muttered the first boy, his grin widening, “Have we hit a sore spot? Ain’t you managed to get your leg over yet?”

“Maybe he doesn’t _want_ to,” said the other, eyes narrowed as he looked down his stubby nose at Scorpius, “You still Daddy’s boy, Deb?”

Both of them broke into giggles at this and Scorpius abruptly turned away, walking as quickly as he could in the opposite direction and hoping that it didn’t look as though he was running from them. He could feel the bright hot blush spreading over his face and was determined to not let them see it, but miraculously they let him go, apparently satisfied with what they’d accomplished. By the time Scorpius reached the first floor of the library his heart was still pounding in humiliation. With a rush of relief he saw that Madame Sylvestra was slumped down and dozing in her tall-backed chair behind the circulation desk. The first floor was just as deserted as the second had been and he ducked down a nearby aisle and stood with his back pressed against the dark wooden shelving, belatedly remembering the book still clutched in his hands. 

After his intense empathic experiences the year before, Professor Robins had said that it might be a good idea for him to focus on other facets of Divination for awhile, and he was currently attempting to apply himself to Object Tracing. In the silence of the library and grateful for the distraction he closed his eyes and tried to think about the book; the years it had spent on its shelf, the countless hands which had picked it up and turned its pages, trying to get a glimpse of the people themselves. He couldn’t say that he was disappointed when nothing surfaced in his mind. Professor Robins had predicted this would be a challenge given that Scorpius’ Sight was clearly more attuned to direct human interaction.

As though in confirmation of this idea Scorpius suddenly realized that he could feel Albus nearby, and sure enough he heard one of the heavy library doors open less than five minutes later. Heart lifting in response, he went towards the sound and saw Albus standing in the open study area. His entrance had woken Madame Sylvestra, who was watching him with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. It was obvious that his friend was excited about something; when their eyes met Albus’ whole body seemed to spark and he made a beeline for Scorpius, moving as quickly as he could between the study tables without incurring Madame Sylvestra’s wrath. Once Albus had reached him he grabbed hold of Scorpius’ sleeve and began steering him away from the desk and back towards the shadowed nooks and alcoves beneath the overhanging second floor, whispering “You are never going to _believe_ what just happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good heavens this chapter kicked my butt, and I admit that I let myself get very distracted by other projects. It's still not what I want it to be but it's better than it was and I so desperately need to move on. I apologize - thank you for bearing with me! That being said, the last scene is one I've been looking forward to for a long time and I LOVED writing Snape <3
> 
> *UPDATE: After hemming and hawing way too much I finally went back and added the scene that I had been planning to end this chapter with! :)

**Author's Note:**

> This one is DAUNTING right now, but I'm glad to get the first chapter up (even if it's a short one - sorry!) I have a lot of story/character notes and a list of plot points and I'm excited for how this new adventure will unfold :)


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